ERKELEY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS By the Same Author BIOGRAPHICAL American Bookmen (1898) Phillips Brooks (in " Beacon Biographies," 1 899) Life and Letters of George Bancroft (1908) Life and Labors of Bishop Hare (1911) Letters of Charles Eliot Norton (with Sara Norton, George von Lengerke Meyer: His Life and Public Services (1919) Memoirs of the Harvard Dead (1920, 1921, ) HISTORICAL Boston, the Place and the People (1903) Boston Common: Scenes from Four Centuries (1910) The Boston Symphony Orchestra (1914) The Humane Society of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts (1918) The Atlantic Monthly and Its Makers (1919) VERSE Shadows (1897) Harmonies (1909) EDITED The Beacon Biographies (31 volumes, 1899 - 1910) The Memory of Lincoln (i 899) Home Letters of General Sherman (1909) Lines of Battle, by Henry Howard Brownell (1912) The Harvard Volunteers in Europe (1916) A Scholar's Letters to a Young Lady (1920) MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS A CHRONICLE OF EMINENT FRIENDSHIPS DRAWN CHIEFLY FROM THE DIARIES OF MRS. JAMES T. FIELDS BY M. A. DEWOLFE HOWE "/ stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn " ya >. t ' ^g!]g^i^; WITH ILLUSTRATIONS THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS BOSTON l.o COPYRIGHT, IQ22, BY M. A. DEWOLFE HOWB First Impression, October, 1921 Second Impression, December, ig PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA F"_73 ,5 H2 CONTENTS I. PRELIMINARY ;.;.$ II. THE HOUSE AND THE HOSTESS .... 6 III. DR. HOLMES, THE FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR. . 17 IV. CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE VISITORS ... 53 V. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA . . . * . 135 VI. STAGE FOLK AND OTHERS . . . V . 196 VII. SARAH ORNE JEWETT . 281 879 ILLUSTRATIONS MRS. FIELDS . , . . . . Frontispiece From an early photograph A NOTE OF ACCEPTANCE . . . . . . . 9 Autograph of Julia Ward Howe THE OFFENDING DEDICATION . . . . . .15 From First Edition of Hawthorne's "Our Old Home" AN EARLY PHOTOGRAPH OF DR. HOLMES . . . 18 REDUCED FACSIMILE OF DR. HOLMES'S 1863 ADDRESS TO THE ALUMNI OF HARVARD 23 FROM THE PLAY-BILL OF THE NIGHT OF DR. HOLMES'S "GREAT ROUND FAT TEAR" 24 (Shaw Theatre Collection, Harvard College Library) FACSIMILE OF THE CONCLUSION OF ULTIMUS SMITH'S DECLARATION . . . ..... .26 MRS. FIELDS . . . . . . . . .32 From a crayon portrait made by Rowse in 1863 FIELDS, THE MAN OF BOOKS AND FRIENDSHIPS . . 34 Louis AGASSIZ , . , . . . . " . . 48 HAWTHORNE IN 1857 . . ... . * * 54 FROM A LETTER OF HAWTHORNE'S AFTER A VISIT TO CHARLES STREET . ... . . . . 61 EMERSON 86 From the Marble Statue by Daniel Chester French in the Concord Public Library A CORNER OF THE CHARLES STREET LIBRARY . . 98 FROM A NOTE OF EMERSON'S TO MRS. FIELDS . 100 FACSIMILE OF AUTOGRAPH INSCRIPTION ON A PHOTO- GRAPH OF ROWSE'S CRAYON PORTRAIT OF LOWELL GIVEN TO FIELDS * . . 106 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 106 From the crayon portrait by Rowse in the Harvard Col- lege Library FACSIMILE OF LOWELL'S "BULLDOG AND TERRIER" SONNET \ 4 V , V % * . , * . 121 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW . . . .124 From a photograph taken in middle life FROM A NOTE OF "DEAR WHITTIER" TO MRS. FIELDS 130 PROPOSED DEDICATION OF WHITTIER'S "AMONG THE HILLS" TO MRS. FIELDS . . . . . .132 CHARLES DICKENS . . . ... . . 136 From a portrait by Francis Alexander, for many years in the Fields house, and now in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts "THE Two CHARLES'S," DICKENS AND FECHTER . 140 (Shaw Theatre Collection, Harvard College Library) REDUCED FACSIMILE OF DICKENS'S DIRECTIONS, PRE- SERVED AMONG THE FlELDS PAPERS, FOR THE BREWING OF PLEASANT BEVERAGES . ' . . . . . 147 FACSIMILE PLAY-BILL OF "THE FROZEN DEEP," WITH DICKENS AS ACTOR-MANAGER 188 (Shaw Theatre Collection, Harvard College Library) FACSIMILE NOTE FROM DICKENS TO FIELDS . . . 192 JAMES T. FIELDS AT FIFTEEN . . . - 196 From a drawing by a French Painter FACSIMILE NOTE FROM BOOTH TO MRS. FIELDS . . 201 BOOTH AS HAMLET . .... . . . 202 JEFFERSON IN THE BETROTHAL SCENE OF "Rip VAN WINKLE" ... ' - ... .. .208 A NAST CARTOON OF DICKENS AND FECHTER . . 210 (Shaw Theatre Collection, Harvard College Library) JAMES E. MUBDOCK AND WILLIAM WARREN . . 218 CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN : FROM A CRAYON PORTRAIT . 220 (Shaw Theatre Collection, Harvard College Library) RISTORI AND FANNY KEMBLE 222 The photograph of Fanny Kemble was taken in Philadel- phia in 1863 CHRISTINE NILSSON AS OPHELIA 226 FACSIMILE LETTER FROM WILLIAM MORRIS HUNT TO FIELDS 231 FACSIMILE PAGE FROM AN EARLY LETTER OF BRET HARTE'S . 235 BRET HARTE AND MARK TWAIN 242 From early photographs FACSIMILE VERSES AND LETTER FROM MARK TWAIN TO FIELDS 248-9 CHARLES SUMNER 258 FROM A LETTER OF EDWARD LEAR'S TO FIELDS . . 279 SARAH ORNE JEWETT 282 THE LIBRARY IN CHARLES STREET 284 Mrs. Fields at the window, Miss Jewett at the right AN AUTOGRAPH COPY OF MRS. FIELDS'S " FLAMMANTIS MCBNIA MUNDI " BEFORE ITS FINAL REVISION . . 287 MRS. FIELDS ON HER MANCHESTER PIAZZA . . . 288 MISTRAL, MASTER OF "BOUFFLO BEEL" . . . 294 REDUCED FACSIMILE FROM LETTER OF HENRY JAMES (Most of the photographs reproduced are in the collections of the Boston Athen&um and the Harvard College Library, to which grateful acknowledgments are made.) MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS I PRELIMINARY IN the years immediately before the death of Mrs. James T. Fields, on January 5, 1915, she spoke to me more than once of her intention to place in my posses- sion a cabinet of old papers journals of her own, let- ters from a host of correspondents, odds and ends of manuscript and print which stood in a dark corner of a small reception-room near the front door of her house in Charles Street, Boston. On her death this intention was found to have been confirmed in writing. It was also made clear that Mrs. Fields had no desire that her own life should be made a subject of record "unless," she wrote, "for some reason not altogether connected with myself." Such a reason is abundantly suggested in her records of the friends she was con- stantly seeing through the years covered by the journals. These friends were men and women whose books have made them the friends of the English-speaking world, and a better knowledge of them would justify any ampli- fication of the records of their lives. In this process the figure of their friend and hostess in Charles Street must inevitably reveal itself not as the subject of a biog- raphy, but as a central animating presence, a focus of sympathy and understanding, which seemed to make a single phenomenon out of a long series and wide vari- ety of friendships and hospitalities. 4 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS The "blue books" more than fifty in number which Mrs. Fields used for the journals have already yielded many pages of valuable record to her own books, especially "James T. Fields : Biographical Notes and Personal Sketches" (1881), and "Authors and Friends" (1896); also even, here and there, to Mr. Fields's "Yesterdays with Authors" (1871). Yet she left unprinted much that is both picturesque and illumi- nating : so many of the persons mentioned in the jour- nal were still living or had but recently died when her books were written. There are, besides, many passages used in a fragmentary way, which may now with pro- priety be given complete. Into these manuscript journals, then, I propose to dip afresh not with the purpose of passing in a mis- cellaneous review all the friends who crossed the thresh- old of the Charles Street house in a fixed period of time, but rather in pursuit of what seems a more prom- ising quest namely, to consider separate friends and groups of friends in turn ; to assemble from the journals passages that have to do with them; to supplement these by drawing now and then upon the old cabinet for a letter from this or that friend to Mr. or Mrs. Fields, and thus to step back across the years into a time and scene of refreshing remembrance. Many a friend, many a friendship, must be left untouched. In the processes of selection, figures of more than local significance will receive the chief consideration. In pas- sages relating to one person, allusions to many others, sometimes treated separately in other passages, will PRELIMINARY 5 often be found, for the friendships with one and an- other were constantly overlapping and interlocking. Bits of record of no obviously great importance will be included, not because they or the subjects of them are taken with undue seriousness, but merely that a van- ished society, interesting in itself to those who care for the past and doubly interesting as material for a study in contrasts with the present, may have again its "day in court/* When Fields was publishing his reminis- cences of Hawthorne, Lowell wrote to him : " Be sure and don't leave anything out because it seems trifling, for it is out of these trifles only that it is possible to reconstruct character sometimes, if not always"; and he commended especially the hitting of "the true chan- nel between the Charybdis of reticence, and the Scylla of gossip." Under sailing orders of this nature, self- imposed, I hope to proceed. "Another added to my cloud of witnesses," wrote Mrs. Fields in her journal, on hearing, in 1867, that Forceythe Willson had died. Nearly fifty years of life then remained to the diarist, though she continued to keep her diary with regularity for hardly ten. Before her own death the cloud of witnesses was infinitely ex- tended. Yet new friends constantly stood ready to fill, as best they might, the gaps that were left by the old. It is not the new who will appear in the following pages, but those with whom Mrs. Fields herself must now be numbered. II THE HOUSE AND THE HOSTESS THE fact that Henry James, in "The American Scene," published in 1907, and again in an article which appeared in the "Atlantic Monthly" and the "Cornhill Magazine" in July, 1915, has set down in his own ulti- mate words his memories of Mrs. Fields and her Boston abode would be the despair of anyone attempting a similar task were it not that quotation remains an unprohibited practice. In "The American Scene" he evokes from the past "the Charles Street ghosts," and gives them their local habitation: "Here, behind the effaced anonymous door" a more literal-minded realist might have noted that a vestibule-door contrib- uted the only effacement and anonymity "was the little ark of the modern deluge, here still the long drawing-room that looks over the water and towards the sunset, with a seat for every visiting shade, from far-away Thackeray down, and relics and tokens so thick on its walls as to make it positively, in all the town, the votive temple to memory." In his "Atlantic" and "Cornhill" article he refers to the house, in a phrase at which Mrs. Fields would have smiled, as "the waterside museum of the Fieldses," and to them as "addicted to every hospitality and every benevolence, addicted to the cultivation of talk and wit and to the ingenious multiplication of such ties as could link the upper half HOUSE AND HOSTESS 7 of the title-page with the lower"; he pays tribute to "their vivacity, their curiosity, their mobility, the felic- ity of their instinct for any manner of gathered relic, remnant, or tribute"; and in Mrs. Fields herself, sur- viving her husband for many years, he notes "the per- sonal beauty of her younger years, long retained and not even at the end of such a stretch of life quite lost ; the exquisite native tone and mode of appeal, which an- ciently we perhaps thought a little ' precious/ but from which the distinctive and the preservative were in time to be snatched, a greater extravagance supervening; the signal sweetness of temper and lightness of tact." There is one more of Henry James's remarks about Mrs. Fields that must be quoted, "All her implica- tions," he says, "were gay, since no one so finely senti- mental could be noted as so humorous ; just as no femi- nine humor was perhaps ever so unmistakingly directed, and no state of amusement, amid quantities of reminis- cence, perhaps ever so merciful." Mirth and mercy do not always, like righteousness and peace, kiss each other. In Mrs. Fields the capacity for incapacitating laughter was such that I cannot help recalling one occa- sion, near the end of her life, when an attempt to tell a certain story of which I remember nothing but that it had to do with a horse - involved her in such merri- ment that after repeated efforts to reach its "point," she was forced to abandon the endeavor. What I cannot recall in a single instance, in the excellent telling of in- numerable anecdotes, is unkindness, in word or sugges- tion, toward the persons involved in them. Mr. James 8 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS did well to include this item in his enumeration of Mrs. Fields's qualities. Through all his lenses of memory and phrase he brought so vividly to one's own vision the Mrs. Fields a younger generation had known that, on reading what he had written, I wrote to him in England, then nearly ending its first year in the war, and must have said that his pages would help me, at some future day, to deal with these of my own, now at last taking form. Thus, in part, he replied : July 2oM, 1915 Your appreciation reached me, alas, but through the most muffling and deadening thickness of our unspeaka- ble actuality here. It was to try and get out of that a little that I wrote my paper in the most difficult and defeating conditions, which seemed to me to make it, with my heart so utterly elsewhere, a deplorably make- believe attempt. Therefore if it had any virtue, there must still be some in my poor old stump of a pen. Yes, the pipe of peace is a thing one has, amid our storm and stress, to listen very hard for when it twitters, from afar, outside; and when you shall pipe it over your exhibi- tion of dear Mrs. Fields's relics and documents I shall respond to your doing so with whatever attention may then be possible to me. We are not detached here, in your enviable way but just exactly so must we there- fore make some small effort to escape, even into what- ever fatuity of illusion, to keep our heads above water at all.. ^That in short is the history of my " Cornhill " scrap. HOUSE AND HOSTESS 9 The time into which Henry James escaped by "pip- ing " of Mrs. Fields has now grown far more remote than the added span of the last seven years, merely as years, could have made it. Remote enough it seemed to him yf 7V0te 0/ Acceptance when, at the end of his reminiscences of the Fieldses, he recalled a small "feast" in the Charles Street dining- room at which Mrs. Julia Ward Howe it must have been about 1906 rose and declaimed, "a little quaver- ingly, but ever so gallantly, that ' Battle Hymn of the Republic* which she caused to be chanted half a cen- tury before and still could accompany with a real breadth of gesture, her great clap of hands and indica- tion of the complementary step, on the triumphant io MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS linp, 'Be swift my hands to welcome him, be jubilant my feet!'" Now it fell to my lot that night, as perhaps the young- est of the party, to convoy Mrs. Howe across two wintry bits of sidewalk into the carriage which bore her to and from the memorable dinner-party, and to accompany her on each of the little journeys. Quite as clear in my memory as her recitation of the "Battle Hymn" was the note of finality in her voice, quite free from unkind- ness, as she settled down for the return drive to her house in Beacon Street, far from a towering figure, and announced in the darkness : "Annie Fields has shrunk." The hostess we were leaving and the guest some fifteen years her senior, and nearing ninety with what seemed an immortally youthful spirit, appear, when those words are recalled, as they must have been before either was touched by the diminishing hand of age ; and the house whose door had just closed upon us a house more recently obliterated to make room for a monstrous garage came back as the scene of many a gathering of which the little feast described by Henry James was but a type. Early in January of 1915 this door, which through a period of sixty years had opened upon extraordinary hospitality, was finally closed. Since 1866 it had borne the number 148. Ten years earlier, in 1856, when the house was first occupied by James T. Fields, afterwards identified with the publishing firms of Ticknor and Fields, and Fields, Osgood and Company, it was num- bered 37, Charles^ Street. This Boston man of books HOUSE AND HOSTESS n and friendships, who before his death in 1881 was to become widely known as publisher, editor, lecturer, and writer, had married, in 1850, Eliza Josephine Willard, a daughter of Simon Willard, Jr., of the name still honor- ably associated with the even passage of time. She died within a few months, and in November of 1854 ne mar- ried her cousin, Annie Adams, not yet twenty years old, the beautiful daughter of Dr. Zabdiel Boylston Adams. For those who knew Mrs. Fields toward the end of her four score and more years, it was far easier to see in her charming face and presence the exquisite, eager young woman of the mid-nineteenth century than to detect in the Charles Street of 1915, of which she was the last in- habitant of her own kind, any resemblance to the delightful street of family dwellings, many of them look- ing out over the then unfilled " Back Bay/ 1 to which she had come about sixty years before. The Fieldses had lived here but a few years when, in 1859, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes with the " Autocrat " a year behind him and the "Professor" a year ahead became their neighbor at 21, subsequently 164, Charles Street. On the other side of them, nearer Beacon Street, John A. Andrew, the great war governor of Massachusetts, was a friend and neighbor. Across the way, for a time, lived Thomas Bailey Aldrich. In hillside streets near by dwelt many persons of congenial tastes, whose work and char- acter contributed greatly to making Boston what it was through the second half of the last century. The distinctive flavor of the neighborhood derived nothing more from any of its households than from that 12 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS of Mr. and Mrs. Fields. Their dining-room and drawing- room 1 that green assembling-place of books, pictures, music, persons, associations, all to be treasured were the natural resort, not only of the whole notable local company of writers whose publisher was also their true and valued friend, but, besides, of many of the eminent visitors to Boston, of the type represented most con- spicuously by Charles Dickens. After the death of Mr. Fields there was far more than a tradition carried on in the Charles Street house. Not merely for what it had meant, but for all that the gracious personality of Mrs. Fields caused it to go on meaning, it continued through her lifetime extending beyond that of Miss Sarah Orne Jewett, for so many years of Mrs. Fields's widowhood her delightful sister-hostess the resort of older and younger friends, whose present thus drew a constant enrichment from the past. It was not till 1863, nearly ten years after her mar- riage, that Mrs. Fields, who had kept a diary during a visit to Europe in 1859-60 with her husband, and for other brief periods, applied herself regularly to this practice, maintained through 1876, and thereafter renewed but intermittently. She wrote on the cover of the first slender volume: "No. i. Journal of Literary Events and Glimpses of Interesting People." A few of its earliest pages, revealing its general purpose and character, may well precede the passages relating, in accordance with the plan already indicated, to individ- 1 A Shelf of Old Books, by Mrs. Fields (i 894), pictures many aspects of the house and its contents. HOUSE AND HOSTESS 13 ual friends and groups of friends. In the first pages of all, on which Mrs. Fields built a few sentences for her "Biographical Notes," I find: July 26, 1863. What a strange history this literary life in America at the present day would make. An editor and publisher at once, and at this date, stands at a confluence of tides where all humanity seems to surge up in little waves; some larger than the rest (every seventh it may be) dashes up in music to which the others love to listen ; or some springing to a great height retire to tell the story of their flight to those who stay below. Mr. Longfellow is quietly at Nahant. His translation of Dante is finished, but will not be completely pub- lished until the year 1865, that being the 6ooth anniver- sary since the death of the great Italian. Dr. Holmes was never in healthier mood than at present. His ora- tion delivered before a large audience upon the Fourth of July this year places him high in the rank of native orators. It is a little doubtful how soon he will feel like writing again. He has contributed much during the last two years to the "Atlantic" magazine. He may well take a temporary rest. Mr. Lowell is not well. He is now travelling. Mr. Hawthorne is in Concord. He has just completed a volume of English Sketches of which a few have been printed in the "Atlantic Monthly." He will dedicate the volume to Franklin Pierce, the Democrat a most unpopular thing just now, but friendship of the purest i 4 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS stimulates him, and the ruin in prospect for his book because of this resolve does not move him from his purpose. Such adherence is indeed noble. Hawthorne requires all that popularity can give him in a pecuniary way for the support of his family. The "Atlantic Monthly" is at present an interesting feature of America. Purely literary, it has nevertheless a subscription list, daily increasing, of 32,000. Of course the editor's labors are not slight. We have been waiting for Mr. Emerson to publish his new volume containing his address upon Henry Thoreau ; but he is careful of words and finds many to be considered again and again, until it is almost impossible to extort a manuscript from his hands. He has written but little, of late. July 28. George William Curtis has done at least one great good work. He has by a gentle but con- tinuously brave pressure transformed the "Harper's Weekly," which was semi-Secession, into an anti-slavery and Republican journal. The last issue is covered with pictures as well as words which tend to ameliorate the condition of the colored race. Mr. Curtis's own house at Staten Island has been threatened by the mob; therefore his wife and children came last week to New England. I fear the death of Colonel Shaw, her brother, commanding the 54th Massachusetts (colored infantry), will induce them_to return home. His death is one of our severest strokes. July 31, 1863. We have been in Concord this week, making a short visit at the Hawthornes*. He has just finished his volume of English Sketches, about to be HOUSE AND HOSTESS 15 dedicated to Franklin Pierce. It is a beautiful incident in Hawthorne's life, the determination at all hazards to dedicate this book to his friend. Mr. P.'s politics at present shut him away from the faith of patriots, but Hawthorne has loved him since college days and he will not relent. 1 Mrs. Hawthorne is the stay of the house. Td FRANKLIN PIERCE, AS A SLIGITT MEMORIAL OF A COLLEGE FRIENDSHIP, PROLONGED THROUGH MANHOOD, AND RETAINING ALL ITS VITALITY IN OUR AUTUMNAL TEARS, fcfcts UioUme is finsctCfteft BT NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. The Offending Dedication The wood-work, the tables and chairs and pedestals, are all ornamented by her artistic hand or what she has prompted her children to do. Una is full of exquisite maidenhood. Julian was away, but his beautiful illu- minations lay upon the table. The one illustrating a por- tion of King Arthur's address to Queen Guinevere (Tennyson) was remarkably fine. All this takes one back into a past sufficiently re- mote. The 1859-60 diary of travel achieves the more remarkable spectacle of Mrs. Fields in conversation with Leigh Hunt less than two months before he died, 1 About two months later, Mrs. Fields wrote in her diary : " Emerson says Hawthorne's book is 'pellucid but not deep.' He has cut out the dedication and letter, as others have done." 16 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS and reporting the very words of Shelley to this friend of his. They may be found in the "Biographical Notes" published by Mrs. Fields after her husband's death. Shelley says, "Hunt, we write love-songs ; why shouldn't we write hate-songs ?" And Hunt, recalling the remark, adds, "He said he meant to some day, poor fellow." Perhaps one of his subjects would have been the second Mrs. Godwin, for, according to Hunt, he disliked her particularly, believing her untrue, and used to say that when he was obliged to dine with her "he would lean back in his chair and languish into hate." Then, wrote Mrs. Fields, "he said no one could describe Shelley. He always was to him as if he came from the planet Mercury, bearing a winged wand tipped with flame." It is now an even century since the death of Shelley, and here we find one of the older generation of our own time talking, as it were, with him at but a single remove. Almost the reader is persuaded to ask of Mrs. Fields herself, "Ah, did you once see Shelley plain ?" Thus from the records of bygone years many re- membered figures might be summoned; but the evo- cations already made will suffice to indicate the point of vantage at which Mrs. Fields stood as a diarist, and to set the scene for the display of separate friendships Ill DR. HOLMES, THE FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR 1 IF any familiar face should appear at the front of the procession that constantly crossed the threshold of 148, Charles Street, it should be that of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, for many years a near neighbor, and to the end of his life a devoted visitor and friend. Here, then, is an unpublished letter written from his summer retreat while Fields was still actively associated with the "Old Corner Bookstore" of Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, and in the year before his marriage with Annie Adams : PITTS FIELD, Sept. 6th, 1853 MY DEAR MR. FIELDS : Thank you for the four volumes, and the authors of three of them through you. You did not remember that I patronized you to the extent of Aleck before I came up ; never mind, I can shove it round among the young farmeresses and perhaps help to work off the eleventh thousand of the most illustrious of all the Smiths. I shall write to Hillard soon. I have been reading his book half the time today and with very great pleas- ure. I am delighted with the plan of it practical in- 1 The greater part of this chapter appeared in the Yale Review for April, 1918. 1 8 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS formation such as the traveller that is to be or that has been wishes for, with poetical description enough to keep the imagination alive, and sound American thought to give it manly substance. It is anything but a flash book, but I have not the slightest doubt that it will have a permanent and very high place in travelling literature. Many things have pleased me exceedingly, when I have read a little more I shall try to tell him what pleases me most, as I suppose like most authors he likes as many points for his critical self-triangula- tion as will come unasked for. Hawthorne's book has been not devoured, but bolted by my children. I have not yet had a chance at it, but I don't doubt I shall read it with as much gusto as they, when my turn comes. When you write tc him, thank him if you please for me, for I suppose he will haidly expect any formal acknowledgment. I bloomed out into a large smile of calm delight on opening the delicate little "Epistle Dedicatory" where- in your name is embalmed. I cannot remember that our friend has tried that pace before; he wrote some pleasing lines I remember to Longfellow on the ship in which he was to sail when he went to Europe some years a good many ago. Don't be too proud ! Wait until you get a prose dedi- cation from a poet, if you have not got one already, and then consider yourself immortal. Yours most truly, O. W. HOLMES AN EARLY PHOTOGRAPH OF DR. HOLMES DR. HOLMES, FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR 19 This letter contains several provocations to curiosity. "Aleck, . . . the most illustrious of all the Smiths," was obviously Alexander Smith, the Scottish poet of enormous but strictly contemporanecus vogue, in whom the English reviewers of the time detected a kinship to Tennyson, Keats, Shelley, and Shakespeare. George S. Hillard's new book was "Six Months in Italy," and Hawthorne's, "not devoured, but bolted" by the Holmes children, was "Tanglewood Tales." The "deli- cate little 'Epistle Dedicatory'" has been found elu- sive. From this early letter of Dr. Holmes a seven-league step may be taken to a passage in a diary Mrs. Fields was writing in 1860, the year following the removal of the Holmes household from Montgomery Place to Charles Street, before her long unbroken series of journals began. The occasion described was one of those frequent breakfasts in the Fields dining-room, which bespoke, in the term of a later poet, the "wide unhaste" of the period. Of the guests, N. P. Willis was then at the top of his distinction as a New York editor ; George T. Davis, a lawyer of Greenfield, Mass- achusetts, afterwards of Portland, Maine, a classmate of Dr. Holmes, was reputed one of the most charming table-companions and wits of his day : the tributes to his memory at a meeting of the Massachusetts Histor- ical Society after his death in 1877 st i r one's envy of his contemporaries ; George Washington Greene of Rhode Island was perhaps equally known as the friend of Longfellow and as the grandson and biographer of 20 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS General Nathanael Greene ; Whipple was, of course, Edwin P. Whipple, essayist and lecturer ; the household of three was completed by Mrs. Fields's sister, Miss Lizzie Adams. Thursday, September 21, 1860. Equinoctial clear- ing after a stormy night and morning. Willis came to breakfast, and Holmes and George T. Davis, G. W. Greene, Whipple, and our little household of three. Holmes talked better than all, as usual. Willis played the part of appreciative listener. G. T. Davis told won- derful stories, and Mr. Whipple talked more than usual. Holmes described the line of beauty which is made by any two persons who talk together congenially thus ^"X^^j whereas, when an adverse element comes in, it proceeds thus /\ ; and by and by one which has a frightful retrograde movement, thus / . Then blank despair settles down upon the original talker. He said people should dovetail together like properly built mahogany furniture. Much of all this congeniality had to do with the physical, he said. "Now there is big Dr. ; he and I do very well together; I have just two intellectual heart-beats to his one." Willis said he thought there should be an essay written upon the necessity that literary men should live on a more con- centrated diet than is their custom. "Impossible," said the Professor, " there is something behind the man which drives him on to his fate ; he goes as the steam-engine goes and one might as well say to the engine going at the rate of sixty miles, 'you had better stop now/ and DR. HOLMES, FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR 21 so make it stop, as to say it to a man driven on by a vital preordained energy for work." Each man has a phil- osophical coat fitted to his shoulders, and he did not expect to find it fitting anybody else. At another breakfast, in 1861, we find, besides the favorite humorist of the day, Dr. Holmes's son and namesake, then a young officer in the Union army, now Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. Sunday, December 8, 1861. Yesterday morning " Artemus Ward/* Mr. Browne, breakfasted with us, also Dr. Holmes and the lieutenant, his son. We had a merry time because Jamie was in grand humor and rep- resented people and incidents in the most incomparable manner. "Why," said Dr. Holmes to him afterward, "you must excuse me that I did not talk, but the truth is there is nothing I enjoy so much as your anecdotes, and whenever I get a chance I can't help listening to them." The Professor complimented Artemus upon his great success and told him the pleasure he had received. Artemus twinkled all over, but said little after the Pro- fessor arrived. He was evidently immensely possessed by him. The young lieutenant has mostly recovered from his wound and speaks as if duty would recall him soon to camp. He will go when the time comes, but home evidently never looked half so pleasant before. Poor fellows ! Heaven send us peace before long ! The finely bound copy of Dr. Holmes's Fourth of July Oration at the Boston City Celebration of 1863, 22 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS to which the following passage refers, is one of the rari- ties sought by American book-collectors. It was a prac- tice of Dr. Holmes at this time to have his public speeches set up in large, legible type for his own reading at their delivery. One of these, an address to the alumni of Harvard on July 16, 1863, with the inscription, "Oliver Wendell Holmes to his friend James T. Fields, One of six copies printed," is found among the Charles Street papers, and contributes, like the passage that follows, to the sense of pleasant intimacy between the neighboring houses. August 3, 1863. Dr. Holmes dropped in last night about his oration which the City Council have had printed and superbly bound. He has addressed it to the "Common Council" instead of the "City Council," and he is much disturbed. J. T. F. told him it made but small consequence, and he went off comforted. One of the members of the Council told Mr. F. it was amusing to see "the Professor" while this address was passing through the press. He was so afraid something would be wrong that he would come in to see about it half a dozen times a day, until it seemed as if he considered this small oration of more consequence than the affairs of the state. Yet laugh as they may about these little peculiarities of "our Professor," he is a most wonderful man. In explanation of the ensuing bit, it need only be said that in October of 1863 Senorita Isabella Cubas BROTHERS OF THE ASSOCIATION OF THE ALUMNI IT is your misfortune and mine that you must accept my services as your presiding officer in the place of your honored President. I need hardly say how unwillingly it is that for the second time I find myself in this trying position ; called upon to fill as^I best may the place of one whose presence and bearing,' whose courtesy, whose dignity, whose scholarship, whose standing among the distinguished children of the University, fit him alike to guide your- councils and to grace your festivals. The name of Winthrop has been so long associated with the State and with the College, that to sit under his mild empire is like resting beneath one of these wide-branching elms, the breadth oSf whoso shade is ouly a measure of the hold its roots have taken in the soil. In the midst of civil strife we, the children of this our common mother, have come together in peace. And surely there never, was a time when we more needed a brief respite in some chosen place of refuge, some unviolated sanctuary, from the cares and anxieties of our daily existence, than at this very hour. Our life has grown haggard with excitement. The rattle of drums, the march of regiments, the gallop of squadrons, the roar of artillery, seem to have been coiitiu- Reduced facsimile of first page of Dr. Holmes' s 1863 Address to the Alumni of Harvard 2 4 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS was appearing at the Boston Theatre in "The Wizard Skiff, or the Massacre of Scio," and other pantomimes. "The Wizard Skiff/' according to the "Advertiser," was given on the fourteenth. On the sixteenth, a char- acteristic announcement read: "At X past 8 Senorita Cubas will dance La Madrilena." The tear of Dr. Holmes at the spectacle may be remembered with the "poetry and religion" anecdote of Emerson, Margaret Fuller, and Fanny Ellsler. October 16, 1863. Mr. F. went in two evenings since to find Professor Holmes. His wife said he was out. " I don't know where he is gone, I am sure, Mr. Fields," she said in her eager way, "but he said he had finished his work and asked if he might go, and I told him he might, though he would not tell where he was going." Yesterday the "where" transpired. "By the way," said the Professor, "have you seen that little poem by Mrs. Waterston upon the death of Colonel Shaw, 'To- gether* ? It made me cry. However, I don't know how much that means, for I went to see the 'beautiful Cubas' in a pantomime the other night, and the first thing I knew down came a great round fat tear and went splosh on the ground. Wasn't I provoked!" The next fragment is neither a letter nor a passage from the diary, but a bit of excellent fooling, in Dr. Holmes's handwriting, on a sheet of note paper. The meteorological records of 1864 would probably show that there were heavy rains in the course of the year. BOSTON THEATRE STAGE MANAGER ...................................... M r ,T G. RAM FT STAR UMMITCD! ftK*OHlTt 1*4 BEL I, A EC;* Another Character ! KLT ADATTIB TO THIS THI MBOE mODCCBD WITH HEW SCENES, MUSIC AND STARTLING MECHAN- ICAL EFFECTS! WOLFO Mr W. H EDGAR Wednesday Evening, October 14, 1863, Will be performed the Legendary Pr.. in 3 aote. eatitled tbt Or The Maooacre of Scio. SEHOBTTA ISABELLA CUBAS WOLFO ................................................. Mr W. H EDGAR W. H Tfeor . CootUattM ............. W. H. WliBHej , MkbMl ................ W. H Tfeorcn rnmt IWipnrf ......... W. H. Huiblin | AnMUmiM ................ F. O. 8v**i TM Waadbdorf ............ W ScsUu I Frits ......................... Barrj N. T.DftTenport | Plit ............. MIN Blmcb* Gry Gwinb. Gnek Sailor* and Pirafe*. ACT nXST-OKMKK PTRATBa 1 BXKDXBVOTTB. ACT HKXMTD-THB WIZARD flJOFP. Of Muiical Swlectlons. Leader, F. Suck. FROM THE PLAY-BILL OF THE NIGHT OF DR. HOLMES'S "GREAT ROUND FAT TEAR' DR. HOLMES, FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR 25 From Dr. Holmes's interest in the tracing of Dr. John- son's footsteps an even century before his own, it is easy to imagine his fancy playing about the rainfall of the century ahead. I cannot find that this jeu d y esprit y with its entirely characteristic flavor of the " Breakfast Table," was ever printed by its author/ Letter from the last man left by the Deluge of the year 1964 to the last woman left by the same MY DEAR SOLE SURVIVORESS : Love is natural to the human breast. ;The passion has seized me, and you, fortunately, cannot doubt 'as to its object. Adored one, fairest, and indeed only individual .'of your sex, can you, could you doubt that if the world still possessed its full complement of inhabitants, 823,060,413 according to the most recent estimate, I should hesitate in selecting you from the 411,530,206^ females in existence previous to the late accident ? Be- lieve it not ! Trust not the deceivers who but I for- get the late melancholy occurrence for the moment. It is still damp in our I beg your pardon in my neighborhood. I hope you are careful of your precious health so much depends upon it ! The dodo is ex- tinct what if Man but pardon me. Let me recom- mend long india-rubber boots they will excite no remark, for reasons too obvious to mention. May I hope for a favorable answer to my suit by the bearer of this message, the carrier-goose, who was with pine? 26 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS me during the rainy season in the top of the gigantic ne? If any more favored suitor What am I saying ? If -^ .^r *?/ ,<^ <^r<=s 1865. Tuesday, 3, Edith Emer- son was married to William Forbes. The old house threw wide its hospitable doors and the stairway and rooms were covered with leaves and flowers and the whole place was as beautiful as earthly radiance and joy can make a home. Poor Mrs. Hawthorne, laden with her many sorrows, threw off her black robe for that day that she might rejoice with others. Edith made her own marriage wreath, and even Mr. Emerson wore white gloves. Old Mrs. Ripley and many aged and many beautiful persons were there. In 1 866 Emerson, long exiled from the good graces of his Alma Mater, was restored to them by the bestowal of an honorary degree. In 1867 the restoration was com- 92 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS pletedl>y his election as an Overseer of Harvard College and his appearance, after an interval of thirty years, as the Phi Beta Kappa orator. In this capacity he read his address 'on the "Progress of Culture" on July 18, 1867. Of the manner in which he did it, and of the effect he produced on his hearers, Lowell wrote immediately to Norton, in a letter often quoted, "He boggled, he lost his place, he had to put on his glasses ; but it was as if a creature from some fairer world had lost his way in our fogs, and it was our fault, not his." "Phi Beta Day " was still a local festival of much brilliance, which was thus reflected in 1867 on the pages of Mrs. Fields's journal. Thursday ', July 18, 1867. Arose at five and worked in my garden until breakfast. Then it was time to dress for Phi Beta at Cambridge. We drove out, leaving home at nine o'clock. We expected Professor Andrew D. White to go with us, but he called still earlier to say he had been summoned to a business meeting by President Hill. The day was soft and pleasant with a clouded sky. We were among the first on the ground, but we had the pleasure of waiting a few moments to see our friends arrive before we were admitted to the church. Only ladies went in. I went with Mrs. Quincy, the poet's 1 wife (poet for the day, for he is apt to disclaim this title usually), and we found good places in the gallery ; by and by, however, Mrs. Dana beckoned to me to come and sit with them, so I changed my seat to a place on the lower floor. It was an impressive sight to see those 1 Josiah Phillips Quincy. CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 93 men come in (though they kept us waiting until twelve o'clock) Lowell, Emerson, Dana, Hale, and all the good brave men we have with few exceptions. First came Quincy's poem, then Mr. Emerson's address both excellent after the manner of the men. Poor Mr. E/s MSS. was in inextricable confusion, and in spite of the chivalry of E. E. Hale, who hunted up a cushion that he might see better, the whole matter seemed at first out of joint in the reader's eyes. However that may have been, it was far from out of joint in our eyes, being noble in aim and influence, magnetic, imaginative. I felt grateful that I had lived till that moment and as if I might come home to live and work better. Thank Heaven for such a master ! He was evidently put out and angry with himself for his disorder and, taking Mr. Fields's arm as he came from the assembly, had to be somewhat reassured that it was not an utter failure. Mrs. Dana tried to carry me to lunch, most kindly. I could not make up my mind to go anywhere after what I had heard, but for a moment to see if the good Jameses were well, and thence homeward. It seemed, if I could ever work, it must be then. At half-past six Jamie returned from the dinner, where J. R. Lowell presided in the most elegant and bril- liant manner. In calling out Agassiz he told the story of the sailor who was swallowed by a whale and finding time rather heavy on his hands thought he would in- scribe his name on the bridge of bone above his head ; but looking for a place, jack-knife in hand, he found that Jonah was before him so he said Agassiz, etc. 94 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS And of Holmes he said that the Professor and himself were like two buckets in a well : when one of them pre- sided at a dinner, the other made it a point to bring a poem; when one bucket came up full, the other went down empty. And so on through all. Phillips Brooks, the distinguished preacher of Philadelphia, was there, and many other men of note. Out of the many notes relating to Emerson's lectures, a few passages may be taken as typical. Perhaps the best unpublished pages are those on which the philos- opher is seen, with his wife and daughter, against the social background of the time and place. October 19, 1868. The weeks spin away so fast I have no time for records, and yet last Sunday and Mon- day we had two pleasant parties, especially Monday, after Mr. Emerson's first lecture. We were 14 at supper. Mrs. Putnam and Miss Oakey among the guests, but the Emersons, who are always pleased and always full of kindliness, enjoyment, and Christianity, I believe give more pleasure than they receive wherever they are entertained. Edward is full of his grape-culture in Milton, Ellen full of good works, Mrs. Emerson very hot against her brother's opponents, Morton and those who take sides with him now that Morton himself is in the earth-mould first. 1 Mr. Emerson, alive and alert on all topics, talked openly of the untruthfulness of the 1 An allusion to the controversy over the claims of Dr. Jackson and Dr. Morton to the discovery of ether. CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 95 Peabodys, of the beauty of " Charles Auchester," of Mr. Alcott's school, of Dana's politics as superior perhaps to Butler and yet not altogether sound and worthy, con- servatism being so deep in his blood. Thursday we drove our friends to Milton Blue Hill after the Emersons had gone, returned to dine and Selwyn's theatre in the evening. Herman Merivale was of the party son of Thackeray's friend. The Stephens went on Wednesday. Thursday we dined in Milton with Mrs. Silsbee; it was a wet nasty day. Friday, Saturday and Sunday we were quietly enough here, Jamie with a fearful cold. Surely all this is unim- portant enough as regards ourselves; but I like to re- member when Mr. Emerson came and what he said and how he looked, for it is a pure benediction to see him and I honor and love him. February 20, 1869. Heard Emerson again, and Laura was with me ; we drank up every word eagerly. He read Donne, Daniel, and especially Herbert; also vers de societe; the facility of these old divines giving them a power akin to what has produced these familiar rhymes. He said Herbert was full of holy quips ; fond of using a kind of irony towards God, and quoted appropriately. Beautiful things of Herrick, too, he read, but treated Vaughan rather unjustly, we thought. Lowell sat just behind ; I could imagine his running commentary on many of Mr. Emerson's remarks, which were often more Emersonian than universal, or true. The facility of the old poets seemed to impress him with 96 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS almost undue reverence. He is extremely natural and easy in manner and speech during these readings. He bent his brows and shut his eyes, endeavoring to recall a passage from Ben Jonson as if we were at his own dinner-table, and at last when he gave it up said, "It is all the more provoking as I do not doubt many a friend here might help me out with it." His respect for literature, often in these degenerate days smiled upon from some imaginary hills by sur- rounding multitudes, is absolute and regnant. It is religion and life, and he reiterating them in every form. The first and second of the "Conversations" arranged for Emerson by Fields are duly described in the journal. In the evening that followed the second, Emerson and his daughter dined at Charles Street, in company with Longfellow and his daughter Alice, William Morris Hunt and his wife, Dr. Holmes, and the Fieldses. The scene and talk were recorded by the hostess. . . . Coming home, Ellen's trunk had not arrived, so she came, like a good child, most difficult in a woman grown, to dinner in her travelling dress. Alice Long- fellow looked very pretty in a polonaise of lovely olive brown over black ; a little feather of the same color in her hair. Rooshue [Mrs. Hunt] and her husband came in their everydays too. I wore a lilac polonaise with a yellow rose I speak of the latter because it seemed to please W. M. Hunt to see the dash of color. . . . CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 97 Hunt convulsed us with a story of seeing a man run through by an iron bolt, when a distinguished physi- cian is called in; the physician asks if he can sleep well, and a thousand and one questions of like rele- vancy, to all of which the patient only replies by gasps of agony. Hunt acted the whole scene famously. The sunset too delighted him as it gilded the old sheds back of the house and made them "like Solomon's temple." Longfellow has written to Miss Rossetti, the author of the "Shadow of Dante," to thank her for her pleasant book. He asks her the difficult question why Dante puts Venus nearest the sun. Also he points out her fault of saying the spirits of the blest inhabited the planets, whereas Dante clearly states that they all lived in one heaven but visited the planets. The truth of Hawthorne's tale of the minister with the black veil was hunted up. His name was Moody and he was one of the Emerson family. It seems the poor man in his youth shot a boy by accident, and as he grew older a morbid temper settled upon him and he did not think himself fit to preach; so he withdrew from the ministry but taught a smajl school, always wore a black veil, literally a handkerchief. Ellen said her aunt was taught by him and she appeared anxious to set the matter right. Rose Hawthorne and her hus- band have been to see Mr. Emerson, and he likes them both well ; thinks Rose looks happy and the young man promising, which is much. There is hope of Una's recovery and return. After dinner, we ladies looked over manuscripts for 98 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS a time until Longfellow went when Mrs. Hunt went to the piano and played and sang. Finally he came, and they sang their little duets together and afterward she sang a song with words by Channing about a pine tree, set to a scrap of a sonata by Helen Bell, and after that a touching German song with English words then she read Celia's [Mrs. Thaxter's] new poem to Mr. Emerson, called "The Tryst." She read it only pretty well, which disgusted her ; and she said it reminded her of William's reading, which was the worst she ever knew; he could literally stop in the middle of a sentence because it happened to be the bottom of a page, and ask her what it meant. At that he took Celia's poem and read it through word for word like a school-boy, looking up at her to see if he was right and should go on. She laughed immoderately, and as for Mr. Emerson, J. said his eyes left their wonted sockets and went to laugh far back in his brain. Putting down his book, Hunt launched off into his own life as a painter. His lonely position here without anyone to look up to in his art his idea of art being entirely misunderstood, his determination not to -paint cloth and cheeks, but to paint the glory of age and the light of truth. He became almost too excited to find words, but when he did grasp a phrase, it was such a fine one that it went a great way. His wife sat by mak- ing running comments, but when he said, "If any man who was talking could not be heard, he would naturally try to talk so that he could be heard," we tried to urge him to stand firm and to assure him that his efforts were A CORNER OF THE CHARLES STREET LIBRARY CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 99 neither lost nor in vain. " If the books you wrote were left all dusty and untouched upon the shelves, don't you think you would try to write so that people should want them ? I am sure you would." His wife tried to say he must stand in the way he knew was right as did we all but he seemed to think it too hard, too Sisyphus-like a labor. The portrait of little Paul is still unsold. After keeping the carriage waiting one hour and a half, they went a most interesting pair. Tuesday, April 23. Shakespeare's birthday. Emer- son and his daughter passed the night with us and Edith Davidson, Ellen's "daughter," came to break- fast. We talked over again the pleasure of the night before. Emerson had never heard Hunt talk before and had seldom found Longfellow so expansive. Holmes met J. in the course of the day, and told him he had a real good time, though he did have a thumping head- ache he was much pleased with Alice Longfellow. Tuesday, May 21. Call from Mr. Emerson, Mrs. E. and Ellen. They came in a body to thank me, which Mrs. Emerson did in a little set speech after her own fashion, at which we all laughed heartily especially at the "profit" clause. Indeed we had a very merry time altogether. Mr. Emerson gave "Queenie" per- mission to look all about the room, "for indeed there was not such another in all Boston no indeed [half soliloquizing], not such another." Then he looked about and told them the wrong names of the painters, and would have been entirely satisfied if he had not referred to me, when I was obliged to tell the truth and so from ioo MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS that time he made me speaker. He said he should do his very best for the university class for women for next December to make up for having served them so badly this winter. He said I had very gently reminded him of C^ J/&^&~7 , From a note of Emerson's to Mrs. Fields his entire forgetfulness to fulfil an engagement or half- engagement to come to speak to them this winter. "Queenie" told me she was one of the few persons who had read Miss Mitford's poems, "Blanche" and all the rest, and liked them very much. So the various por- traits of the old lady interested her much. CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 101 They came down to Boston, Mrs. E. said, on purpose to make this call. I had just returned home from along drive about town on business, so it was the best possible moment for me. Our first thought this morning (J's. and mine) was, how could Mr. Emerson finish his course of " Conversa- tions," which had been so brilliant until the last, in so unsatisfactory a manner. His matter was for the most part old, and he finished with reading well-known hymns of Dr. Watts and Mrs. Barbauld. I fear we were all disappointed. Some of the lectures (especially the one on "Love") have been so fine that we were bitterly disappointed. . A later reference to Emerson shows him in Philadel- phia, and through the eyes of a qualified observer there. \o' The passage was written at Manchester-by-the-Sea, to which Mr. and Mrs. Fields had begun to pay summer visits even before 1872, and where they soon acquired that cottage of their own on "Thunderbolt Hill," which belied its name in serving as the most peaceful of retreats for Mrs. Fields and the friends she was constantly sum- moning to her side through all the remainder of her life. Tuesday ', August 25, 1872. Miss A. Whitney came Saturday and remained until Monday morning. Sun- day evening we passed at Mrs. Towne's. Mrs. Annis Wister 1 of Pennsylvania had just arrived, a dramatic 1 Daughter of the Rev. William Henry Furness, of Philadelphia, and trans- lator of German novels. 102 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS creature, who tells and tells again at request, with as much amiability as talent, her wonderful story of Father Donne, the Irish priest, who performed the marriage ceremony for one of her servants. Mrs. Wis- ter, in spite of a lisp, has a thoroughly clear enuncia- tion. She never leaves a sentence unfinished nor suffers the imagination to complete any corner of her picture. She is exceedingly lively and witty, and Miss Whitney, whose mind is quite different and altogether introverted, busied over her artistic, conceptions, could not help a feeling of envy. The gift of narration, so rare in this country, has been carefully cultivated by Mrs. Wister, and poor Miss Whitney could only wonder and admire. I could see her fine large eyes glow with pleasure and desire as she listened to her. Mrs. Wister told me an odd thing, which shows her as an individual. She asked me how the testimonial to Mr. Emerson was progressing, as her father was much interested and thought nothing he possessed too good to be given at once to Mr. Emerson, nor indeed worthy of his acceptance, and she would like to write him. I told her I believed the sum had reached $ 10,000, and had already been presented. This led her to say the friendship of her father for Mr. Emerson, and indeed their mutual friendship, as she then believed it to be, dated back to their youth, when Mr. Emerson was first writing his poems and delighting over the illustrations her father would make for them. As she grew up, she became dissatisfied at the relation be- tween them. She thought Mr. Furness, her father, gave much more to Mr. Emerson in the way of friend- CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 103 ship than Mr. Emerson ever appreciated. This went on until she became about eighteen years of age, when Mr. Emerson chanced to be visiting them in Pennsyl- vania. One day she was standing upon the stairs near the front door, and Mr. Emerson was ready to go out and waiting there for her father, who had withdrawn for a moment. Her heart was full, and suddenly she turned upon Mr. Emerson, and said, " Mr. Emerson, I think you cannot know what a treasure you have in this friendship of my father. He loves you dearly and I fear you cannot appreciate what it is to have the love of such a man as my father." She says to this day she grows "pank," as the Scotchman said, all over at such presumption, but she could not help it. I asked what Mr. Emerson replied. He looked sur- prised, she said, and cast his eyes down, and then said earnestly that he knew and felt deeply how unworthy he was to enjoy the riches of such a friendship. This incident presented Mrs. Wister as well as Mr. Emerson under a keen light. They could never under- stand each other. From October, 1872, until the following May, Emer- son and his daughter Ellen were traveling abroad. On their return Mrs. Fields wrote in her journal : Thursday, May 27, 1873. The Nortons came home with the Emersons day before yesterday. Emerson came to pass an hour with J. T. F. before going to Con- cord. His son Edward had come down to meet him and io 4 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS was full of excitement over the reception his father was to receive and of which he was altogether ignorant. He was overjoyed to be on the old ground again and comes back to value the old friends even more than ever. He must have been much pleased by the joy testified in Concord, but we have only the newspaper account of that. He has been feted more than ever in England, and Ellen was rather worn out by the ovations; but her general health is much improved. The Nortons, who returned in the same steamer, tell me Miss Emerson was feted for her own sake and was his rival! Her "American manners" became all the rage in that world of novelty. One night a gentleman sitting next her at dinner introduced the word "aesthetic." She said she did not understand what he meant by that word ! On the voyage Emerson was devoted to his daughter and full of fun in all his talk with her. He would tuck her up in blanket shawls and go up and down, hither and yon, to make her comfortable then he would laugh at her for being such an exacting young lady and would be very ironical about the manner in which she would allow him to wait on her. "And yet," he said, turning to the Nortons, "Ellen is the torch of religion at home." Throughout the journals Mrs. Fields's references to meetings of the Saturday Club, and the records of con- versations reported by her husband after these lively gatherings, are frequent. In one brief entry Parkman, Lowell, and Emerson appear in a conjunction that could CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 105 hardly have been happy at the moment, but the con- cluding words of the passage may well stand, for their appreciation of Emerson, at the end of these pages con- cerned chiefly with him. August 26, 1874. Parkman said to Lowell, and a more strange evidence of lapse of tacrcould hardly be discovered, "Lowell, what did you mean by 'the land of broken promise'?" Emerson, catching at this last, said, "What is this about the land of broken promise ?" clearly showing he had never read Lowell's Ode upon the death of Agassiz whereat Lowell answered not at all, but dropped his eyes and silence succeeded, although Parkman made some kind of futile attempt to struggle out of it. Emerson said, "We have met two great losses in our Club since you were last here Agassiz and Sumner." "Yes," said Lowell, "but a greater than either was that of a man I could never make you believe in as I did Hawthorne." This ungracious speech silenced even Emerson, whose warm hospitality to the thought and speech of others is usually unending. In "Authors and Friends" Mrs. Fields concerned herself with Longfellow and Whittier at even greater length than with Holmes and Emerson. The Whit- tier paper, besides, was printed as a small separate vol- ume; and in Samuel T. Pickard's "Life of Whittier," as in Samuel Longfellow's biography of his brother, the letters from Whittier, as from Longfellow, to Mrs. Fields, and to her husband, bear witness to valued io6 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS intimacies. Neither to Whittier nor to Longfellow, therefore, does it seem desirable to devote a special section of these papers ; nor yet to Lowell, who never became the subject of published reminiscences by Mrs. Fields, perhaps for the very reason that he figures %rrA Facsimile of autograph Inscription on a photograph of Rowse's crayon portrait of Lowell given to Fields somewhat less frequently than the others in her jour- nal. Yet there are many allusions to him, and in addi- tion to the letters to Fields which Norton selected for his "Letters of James Russell Lowell," and Scudder JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL From the crayon portrait by Rowse in the Harvard College Library CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 107 for his biography of Lowell, a surprising number of unprinted, characteristic communications, both to Fields and to his wife, testify to their friendship. The remainder of this chapter cannot be more profitably employed than by drawing from Mrs. Fields's journal passages relating to these and other local guests of the Charles Street house, and supplementing the diary especially with a few of Lowell's sprightly letters to his successor in the editorship of the "Atlantic Monthly." It may be remarked, as fairly indicative of the relations between Lowell and the Fieldses through many years, that when they visited England in 1869 their traveling companion was Lowell's daugh- ter Mabel. Here, to begin with, is a note written to accom- pany one of Lowell's most familiar poems, "After the Burial," when he sent the manuscript to the editor of the "Atlantic." Lowell's practice of shunning capitals at the beginning of his letters, except for the first personal pronoun, is observed in the quotations that follow : ELMWOOD, ^th March, 1868 MY DEAR FIELDS : when I am in a financial crisis, which is on an average once in six weeks, I look first to my portfolio and then to you. The verses I send you are most of them more than of age, but Professors don't write poems, and I even begin to doubt if poets do always. But I sup- pose you will pay me for my name as you do others, and io8 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS so I send the verses hoping you may also find something in them that is worth praise if not coin. Consolation and commonplace are twin sisters and I doubt not one sat at each ear of Eve after Cain's misunderstanding with his brother. In some folks they cause resentment, and this little burst relieved mine under some desper- ate solacings after the death of our first child, twenty- one years ago. I trust there is nothing too immediately personal to myself in the poem to make the publishing of it a breach of that confidence which a man should keep sacred with himself. With kind regards to Mrs. Fields, I remain always yours, J. R. LOWELL Another typical letter, dated "Elm wood, I2th July, 1868, y to 9 AM wind W. by N. Therm 88," be- gins : MY DEAR FIELDS : as I swelter here, it is some consolation for me that you are roasting in that Yankee-baker which we call the W te M tt . That repercussion of the sun's heat from so many angles at once (the focus being the tourist) al- ways struck me as one of the sublimest examples of the unvarying operation of natural laws. I wish you and Mrs. Fields might be made exceptions, but it can hardly be hoped. Before the end of the month Fields had escaped the CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 109 perils of New Hampshire heat, and paid a visit to Elm- wood, thus chronicled by Mrs. Fields : July 25, 1868. J. went out to see Lowell last night. As he passed Longfellow's door, "Trap," the dog, was half-asleep apparently on the lawn, but hearing a foot- step he leaped up and, seeing who it was, became over- joyed, leaped upon him and covered his hands with caresses. He stayed some time playing with him. Low- ell was alone in his library, looking into an empty fire- place and smoking a pipe. He has been in Newport for a week, but was delighted to return to find his "own sponge hanging on its nail" and to his books. He had become quite morbid because, while J. was away, a smaller sum than usual was sent him for his last poem. He thought it a delicate way of saying they wished to drop him. He was annoyed at the thought of having left out of his article on Dryden one of the finest points, he thought, that was making Dryden to appear the "Rubens" of literature, which he appears to him to be. Lowell is a man deeply pervaded with fine discontents. I do not believe the most favorable circumstances would improve him. Success, of which he has a very small share considering his deserts (for his books have a nar- row circulation), would make him gayer and happier; whether so wise a man, I cannot but doubt. He wears a chivalric, tender manner to his wife. In the following autumn, Bayard Taylor and his wife were paying a visit in Charles Street, and Lowell i io MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS appears in Mrs. Fields's journal as one of the friends summoned in their honor. Thursday morning, November 19, 1868. Mr. Parton came to breakfast and Dr. Holmes came in before we had quite done. O. W. H. was delighted to see Mr. P., because of his papers on "Smoking and Drinking." He believes smoking paralyzes the will. Taylor, on the con- trary, feels himself better for smoking ; it subdues his physical energy so he can write ; otherwise he is nervous to be up and away and his mind will not work. At dinner we had Lowell, Parton, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, Mr. and Mrs. Scott-Siddons and, later, Aldrich. Lowell talked most interestingly, head and shoulders beyond everybody else. The Siddonses left early, the gentlemen all smitten by her beauty and loveliness. A kind of childish grace pervaded her and she was beau- tiful as a picture. I could not wonder at their delight. Lowell's talk after their departure was of literature, of course. He has been reading Calderon for the last six months, in the original. He finds him inexhaustible almost. Speaking of novels, he said Fielding was the master, although he considers there are but two perfect creations of individual character in all literature ; these are Falstaff and Don Quixote ; all the rest fell infinitely below are imperfect and unworthy to stand by their side. Tom Jones he thought might come in, in the second rank, with many others, but far below. He said he could not tell his boys at Cambridge to read Tom Jones, for it might do them harm ; but Fielding painted CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE in his own experience and the result was unrivalled. Thackeray and the rest were pleasant reading, very pleasant, and yet how could he tell his class that he read Tom Jones once a year ! 1 He scouted the idea of Pick- wick or anybody else approaching his two great char- acters. They stood alone for all time. Rip Van Winkle was suggested, but he said in the first place that was not original. Few persons knew the story perhaps in the old Latin (he gave the name, but unhappily I have for- gotten it) but it was only a remade dish after all. Friday. Bayard Taylor and his wife left for New York. Mr. Parton dined out and we had a quiet eve- ning at home and went to bed early. (Parton thinks it would be possible to make the "Atlantic Monthly" far more popular. He suggests a writer named Mark Twain be engaged, and more articles connected with life than with literature.) It is easy to believe that Lowell's talk must have sounded much like his letters, which so often x sound like talk. Witness the following sentences from a letter of December 21, 1868, in reply, apparently, to an appeal for a new essay for the "Atlantic" : 1 One of Lowell's reminiscences at the Saturday Club, recorded two years earlier by Mrs. Fields, suggests his essential youthfulness of spirit. Apropos of a story told by Dr. Holmes, "Lowell said that reminded him of experi- ments the boys at his school used to make on flies, to see how much weight they could carry. One day he attached a thread, which he pulled out of his silk handkerchief, to a fly's leg, and to the other end a bit of paper with * the master is a fool' written on it in small distinct letters. The fly flew away and lighted on the master's nose ; but he, regardless of all but the lessons, brushed him off, and the fly rose with his burden to the ceiling." ii2 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS Well, well, I am always astonished at the good nature of folks, and how much boring they will stand from au- thors. As I told Howells once, the day will come when a wiser generation will drive all its literary men into a corner and make a battue of the whole lot. However, "after me, the deluge," as Nero said, and I suppose they '11 stand another essay or two yet, if I can divine, or rather if I have absorbed enough of the general feel- ing about something to put a point on it. It 's a mercy I 'm not conceited ! I should like to be, and try to be, and have fizzes of it now and then, but they soon go out and leave zfogo behind them I don't like. But if I only were for a continuance I should be as grand a bore as ever lived as grand as Wordsworth, by Jove ! I would come into town once a week to read you over one of my old poems (selecting the longest, of course), and point out its beauties to you. You would flee to Tierra del Fuego (ominous name !) to escape me. You would give up publishing. You would write an epic and read a book just to me every time I came. But no, it is too bright a dream. Let me [be] satisfied with my class, who have to hear me once a week, and with just enough conceit to read my lectures as if I had not stolen 'em, as I am apt to do now. Look out for an essay that shall [make] Montaigne and Bacon cross as the devil when they come to read it ! It will come ere you think. Yours ever, FABIUS C. LOWELL A few weeks later Lowell was writing again to Fields, CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 113 on January 12, 1869, about a fiftieth birthday party at Elmwood : I am going to celebrate my golden wedding with Life, on the 22nd of next month, by a dinner or a supper or something of the kind, and I want you to jine. I shall get together a dozen or so of old friends, and it will be a great satisfaction for you and me to see how much grayer the rest of 'em are than we. I shall fit my invitations to this end, and the bald and hoary will have the chance of the lame, the halt, and the blind in the parable. If it should be a dinner, it won't matter, but if a supper, be sure and forget your night-key and then you won't have any anxiety, nor Mrs. Fields either. Of course, I shall have an account of the affair in the papers with a list of the gifts (especially in money) and the names of all who donate. You will understand by what I have said that it is to be one of those delightful things they call a "sur- prise party," and I expect to live on it for a year one friend for every month. A week later, in the course of a letter accepting the invitation of Mr. and Mrs. Fields for Lowell's daughter to accompany them to Europe, he wrote: "Do you see that is to commence his autobiography in 'Put- nam's Magazine' ? At least, I take it for granted from the title The Ass in Life and Literature ? If sincerely done, it will be interesting." For all the transcendentalism of the circle to which Mrs. Fields bore so intimate a relation, there emanated 1 1 4 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS from Lowell and others an atmosphere of sincerity which helped to preserve the equilibrium of the more easily swayed. Mrs. Fields herself was not immune to the appeal of some of the "isms" of the time and place, but an entry in her journal for January 18, 1870, shows her in no great peril of being swept away by them : Attended yesterday a meeting of what is called the Radical Club. Mr. Channing spoke, Mr. Higginson, Wendell Phillips, Mrs. Howe, Mrs. Lucy Stone, Mr. Bartol, Wasson, J. F. Clarke, Edna Cheney. Mr. Whit- tier was present and a room full of "come-outers." Mr. Channing and Mr. Phillips were reverent, though I think Mr. Phillips more definite, and perhaps conse- quently more conservative, in what he said. Certainly Mr. Phillips's speech was highly satisfactory. On the whole there was much vague talk and restless expression of self without any high end being furthered. I thought much of Mr. Higginson's talk and Mr. Wasson's irrev- erent answer were untrue. Perhaps I am wrong in say- ing no good end is attained by such a meeting. Perhaps a closer understanding of what we do believe is the re- sult. But there is much unpleasant in the unnatural and excited view of the inside ring. 1 There was, moreover, a constant corrective at hand in the persons of the local wits, among whom Long- 1 After an evening of high discussion at Mrs. Howe's in an earlier year, Mrs. Fields wrote in her journal (October 4, 1863) : "The talk grew deep, and after it was over, she [Mrs. Howe] recalled the saying of Mrs. Bell, after a like evening, when she called for 'a fat idiot.'" CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 115 fellow's brother-in-law, Thomas Gold ("Tom") Apple- ton, was of the most clear-sighted. His definition of Nahant as "cold roast Boston," and his prescription for tempering the gales on a particularly windy Boston corner by tethering a shorn lamb there, have secured him something more than a local survival. He fre- quently left his mark on the pages of Mrs. Fields's diary once venturing seriously into prophecy on the spiritual future of Boston, in terms which will seem, at least, in partibus infidelium y to have received a cer- tain confirmation at the hands of time. In the diary the following entry is found : Sunday , November 6, 1870. Appleton (Tom, as the world calls him) came in soon after breakfast Sunday morning. He talked very wisely and brilliantly upon Art, its value and purpose to the state, the necessity for the Museum. He said our people were far more lit- erary than artistic. The sensuous side of their nature was undeveloped. The richness of color, the glory of form, was less to them than something which could set the sharp edge of their intellect in motion. "Besides, what is Boston going to do," he said, "when these fel- lows die who give it its honor now, Longfellow, Holmes, and the rest ? They can't live forever, and with them its glory will depart without it is sustained by a founda- tion for art in other directions. Harvard University will do something to keep it up, but not much, and unless a distinct effort be made now, Boston will lose its place and go behind." He became much excited by the lack n6 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS of appreciation for William Story in Boston, and the abuse of the Everett statue, which he considers good in its way and as marking the highest point in Everett's oratorical fame, that is, when he lifted his hand to indicate the stars in his address at Albany, and set his fame some points nearer the luminaries which inspired him, by his fine eloquence. He said a merchant told him one day that he did n't like Story's portrait statues, but his ideal work he was delighted with. "You lie !" I said to him. "The beauti- ful Shepherd-Boy which I helped to buy and bring to Boston you know nothing of you can't tell me now in which corner of the Public Library it is hidden away. I tell you, you lie ! " He spoke of the Saturday Club, and said that, al- though he sometimes smiled at Holmes's enthusiasm over it, he believed in the main he was quite right, and it would be remembered in future as Johnson's Club has been, and recorded and talked of in the same way. Unfortunately I don't see their Boswell. I wish I could believe there was a single chiel amang them takin* notes. 1 On December 14, 1870, the diary recorded a dinner at which Longfellow, Osgood, Aldrich, Holmes, Dana, Ho wells, Lowell, and Bayard Taylor were the guests. It celebrated the completion of Taylor's translation of " Faust." Of the talk of Lowell and Longfellow, Mrs. Fields wrote : 1 If Mrs. Fields had lived to see The Early Years of the Saturday Club (Boston, 1918), she would have found that I drew from the notes in her own diary a large portion of the memoir of James T. Fields which it contains. CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 117 Before dinner I found opportunity for a short talk with Lowell upon literature. He thinks the chief value of Bret Harte is his local color and it would be a fatal mistake for him to come East, in spite of Taylor's rep- resentation of the aridity of intellectual life now in California. Taylor finds the same reason for leaving his native place. He regrets his large house, and frankly says he is tired of living there, tired of living alone, there being really no one in the vicinity with whom he can associate as on equal grounds. There is no culture, not even a love for it, in the neighborhood. But I have not said half enough of Longfellow. He scintillated all the evening, was filled with the spirit of the time and the scene, sweetly reprimanded Taylor for not having time to give him a visit also, darted his jeuxd* esprit rapidly right and left, often setting the table in a roar, a most unusual thing with him. Holmes at the other end was talking about the natural philos- ophers who "invented facts." Lowell took exception, said it was an impossible juxtaposition of ideas and words. Holmes defended himself by quoting (I think the name was Carius; whoever it was, Lowell said at once and rather warningly, he is a very distinguished name) a series of created facts by which he said a woman was not articulated or not as a man is (perhaps I have not his exact ideas) ; whereat Longfellow at once held up the inarticulate woman to the amusement of the table. Then they began to talk of the singular per- sons this world contains, "quite as strange as Dickens," as they always say; and Taylor, who introduced the u8 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS subject, proceeded to relate an incident which happened to him in a cheap coffee house in New York. It was near a railway station, so he dropped in, finding it con- venient so to do, at an hour not usually popular with the frequenters of such establishments. It was empty save for an extraordinary figure with long arms, short legs and misshapen body, who, hearing a glass of ale ordered, came forward and said if he pleased he would like to have his ale at the same table for the sake of company. There was nothing to do but to comply, which Taylor of course did, whereupon the strange creature, never asking who Taylor was, went on to relate that he was the great man-monkey of the world who could hang from a tree and eat nuts and make the true noise in the throat better than any other ; he had no competitor except one of the Ravel brothers, but he (Ravel) was not the real thing; he himself alone could make the noise perfectly. . . . They all drank the exquisite Ehrbacher Rhine wine from tall green German glasses of antique form, which delighted them greatly. Jamie was much entertained by Holmes's finding them "good conversational aperient, but ugly. I should always have them on the table, but they are not handsome." Longfellow was delighted with my Venetian lace bodice ; it seemed to have a flavor of Venice about it in his eyes. It was a real pleasure to me to see his appreciation of a thing Jamie and I really enjoy so much. I have not reported all, by any means, but time fails me now. A thought of Dickens was continually present, CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 119 as it must be forever at a company dinner-table. How many beautiful feasts have I enjoyed by his side! There is none like him, none. Taylor wrote a friendly German inscription in his book and presented me after dinner. There were amusing traits of Elizabeth Peabody given. Longfellow remembered that the first time he met her was in a carriage. She was taken up in the dark. Hearing his name mentioned, she leaned forward and said, "Mr. Longfellow, can you tell me which is the best Chinese Grammar ? " A midsummer entry of the same year suggests the part that an editor's wife may play in the successful conduct of a magazine, if only through sharing the en- thusiasm that attends the first reading of a manuscript of distinguished merit. Saturday, July 16, 1870. A perfect summer day. Jamie did not go to town, but with a bag full of letters and MSS. concluded to remain here. He fell first upon a MS. by Henry James, Jr., a short story called "Com- pagnons de Voyage," and after tasting of it in our room and finding the quality good (though the handwriting was execrable), I invited my dear boy to a favorite nook in the pasture where we could hear the sea and catch a distant gleam of its blue face while we were still in shadow and fanned by oak leaves. It was one of those delicious seasons which summer can bring to the dullest heart, I believe and hope. We lay down with 120 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS our feet plunged into the cool delicious grass, while I read the pleasant tale of Italy to the close. I do not know why success in work should affect us so power- fully, but I could have wept as I finished reading, not from the sweet low pathos of the tale, which was not tearful, but from the knowledge of the writer's success. It is so difficult to do anything well in this mysterious world. On the very next day Lowell wrote Fields a letter which must have been read with delight by such friends of Dickens as the Fieldses. The decorated sonnet which filled its third sheet is reproduced herewith in facsimile : the plainness of Lowell's script renders type superflu- ous. The mere fact that the death of Dickens could have called forth clerical expressions provoking Lowell to such scorn is in itself a measure of the distance we have travelled since 1870. The verses are not included in Lowell's "Poetical Works," nor are they listed in the " Bibliography of James Russell Lowell," compiled by George Willis Cooke. With two slight changes they may be found, however, over&Lowell's signature, in "Every Saturday," for August 6, 1870. ELMWOOD, ijth July, 1870 MY DEAR FIELDS : I can stand it no longer ! If Dickens is to be banned, the rest of us might as well fling up our hands. This hot weather, too, gives a foretaste that raises well- founded apprehension. It is a good primary school for flu*. Lib, kfto *>** a* Facsimile of Lowell's "Bulldog and Terrier" sonnet 122 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS the Institution of which the Rev'ds Fulton and Dunn seem to be ushers. Instead of going to Church today, where I might have heard something not wholly to my advantage, as the advertisements for lost people say, I have written a sermon. It is not a proper sonnet, but a cross between that and epigram a kind of bull-ter- rier, in short, with the size of the one and the prick-ears and docked tail of the other, nor without his special tal- ent for rats. Is there any grip in his jaw or no ? He is good-natured and scarce shows his teeth. The thing is an improvisation and the weather aw- fully hot ! Sweltered your servant sits and sweats and swears : (for alliteration only) but if you would like it for the "Atlantic," why here it is on the next leaf. Or, if too late, why not "Every Saturday"? I could not even think of it sooner, for I have been wrestling with a bad head and an article on Chaucer, and I fear they have thrown me. I want rest, and a bath of poetry, but where may the wicked hope for either ? My sonnet (if Leigh Hunt would let me call it so) hit me like a stray shot from nowhere that I could divine, and five minutes saw it finished. So why may it not be good ? It came, any- how, as a poem comes though it is n't just that. But my dog is n't bad ? He is from the life at any rate. I shall make use of my first leisure to get into Boston. But I have got bedevilled with the text of Chaucer and am working on it with my usual phrenzy thirteen hours, for example, yesterday, collating texts and writ- ing into margins. I comfort myself that my Chaucer CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 123 will bring a handsome price at my vandoo ! I shall be easier in my coffin if it run up handsomely for Fanny and Mabel. Do you want an essay for your "Almanac" if one should come, which is doubtful ? I need one or two more to make a little volume, and I need a little volume for nameless reasons. O, if I could sell my land ! I would transmute that gold into poetry. Or if only poems would come when you whistle for 'em ! Give my kindest regards to Mrs Fields. Yours always, J. R. L. From my study, this first day for three weeks without a drowsy pain in my knowledge box, I really feel a little lively, and wonder at myself. But don't be alarmed it won't last, any more than money does, or principle in a politician, or hair, or popular favor or paper. Lowell and Longfellow continue to make their appear- ances in Mrs. Fields's diary. December 7, 1871. Last Sunday Charlotte Cush- man dined here. Our guests asked to meet her were Mr. and Mrs. Lowell and Mr. Longfellow; Miss Steb- bins and Miss Chapman, her guests, also came. We had a lovely social time, Lowell making himself espe- cially interesting, as he always does when he can once work himself up to the pitch of going out at all. He talked a while with me about poetry and his own topics after dinner. He said he was one of the few people who 1 24 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS believed in absolute truth; that he always looked for certain qualities in writers, which if he could not dis- cover, they no longer interested him and he did not care to read them. He discovered, for instance, in the writers who had survived the centuries the same kin- dred points, those points he studied until he discovered what the adamant was and where it was founded ; then he would look into the writers of our own age to see if he could find the same stuff; there was little enough of it unfortunately. He does not like Reynolds's por- trait of Johnson, thought it untrue, far too handsome, yet highly characteristic in the management of the hands, which portray the man as he was when talking better probably than anything ever did. Mrs. Lowell appeared to enjoy herself. J. says L. is always more himself if Mrs. L. is happy and talkative. They are thinking of Europe. Mabel is to be married in April, and afterward they probably go at once to Europe. A small party of friends assembled in the evening. Longfellow was the beloved and observed and wor- shipped among all. April n, 1872. Last night Jamie dined with Long- fellow. John Field of Pennsylvania and Lowell were the two other guests. J. was there twenty minutes before the rest arrived, and Longfellow gave him an account of the wedding of a school-mate of mine, , an excellent generous-hearted, generously built woman, with a little limping old clergyman who has already had three wives and whose first name is . Longfellow said, in memory of what had gone before, the organist, HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW From a photograph taken in middle life CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 125 as if driven by some evil spirit, played "Auld Lang Syne/' as the wedding procession came in, consisting of the bride and her brother, two very well-made large persons and the elderly bridegroom limping on behind all alone. The organist suddenly stopped at this point, breaking off with a queer little quirk and shiver as if he only then discovered what he was doing. Indeed the whole wedding appeared to have points to affect the risibles of the poet. He could hardly speak of it without laughter. He said, moreover, that it was, he thought, disgusting and outrageous for old men to get married. Tuesday , September 23, 1872. Longfellow came to town to see Jamie, in one of his loveliest moods. The day was so warm and fine, such a day of dreams, that he proposed to him every kind of excursion. "Come," he said, "let us go to the tea stores and smell the tea; the warm atmosphere will bring out all the odors and we can get samples!" And again, "Come, let us go to the wharves and see the vessels just in from Italy or Spain. It will be a lovely sight in this soft sky, and we can hear the men speak in their native tongues." Unhappily all these seductions were in vain, for Jamie was busy and was to lecture in Grantville in the evening. L. said : "At half-past eight I shall think of you doing thus and thus" (sawing the air with his arms). L. continued: "You know I have very strange people come to me a man came a day or two ago by the name of Hyers, who has just published a book describing his own career. He believes that he is fed by the Lord ! 'How do you 126 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS mean ? ' asked I, with the knowledge that we "were all fed in the same way. 'Why/ said EL, 'He leaves pies and peanuts on the sidewalks for me.'" Longfellow could hardly contain himself but "after all," he said, "that is very like Greene : when Greene comes to me, he always takes his money to come and go, just like my own sons and without so much as a thank you. But I like to have Greene come because he enjoys it so much and it is so strange. He amuses me. Then Appleton too, with his odd fancies, it would be hard to find a stranger man than he. He amused me immensely the other day by fancy- ing an Indian, 'Great Fire/ or 'Hole in the Wall,' or some such fellow, coming to Boston for the first time. Passing a perruquier's, he sees the window filled with masses of false hair ; taking them to be scalps and the window to be an exhibition of these tokens of prowess, he rushes in, embraces the little perruquier behind the counter, treats him like a brother, and almost frightens the small hairdresser out of his senses ! !" L. likes Joaquin [Miller] much. Of course, he said, there are some things about him not altogether agree- able, such as flinging a quid of tobacco out of his mouth under the table; "but I don't mind those things; per- haps," he added, "perhaps I might have done the same as a youth of 20 ! ! ! " Thursday, June 12, 1873. Dined last night with the Aldriches and Mr. Bugbee at Mr. Lowell's beautiful old Elm wood. 1 It was a perfect night, cool, fresh, moon- 1 This was in the midst of Aldrich's occupancy of Elmwood, during Lowell's two years' absence in Europe. CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 127 lighted, after a muggy day of heat. After dinner I went into the fine old study with Aldrich, where he showed me two or three little poems he has lately written. He was all ready to talk on literary topics and much in earnest about his own satisfaction over "Miss Mehitable's Son" (which is indeed a very good story), and was full of dis- gust over the " Nation's " cool dismissal of it. It was too bad; but that Dennet of the "Nation" is beneath con- tempt because of the slights he throws upon good liter- ary work. Aldrich says he found "Asphodel" all worn to pieces, read and reread in the upstairs study. He finds Mr. Lowell's library in curious disorder with re- spect to modern books. He is an easy lender and an easy borrower. The result is, everything is at loose ends. Only two volumes of Hawthorne can be found, for in- stance. . . . Such wonderful colors overspread our bay this eve- ning, the wide heavens, and all that lay between, it seemed an unreal and magic glory, and I recall dimly Hawthorne's disgust when he endeavored to describe a landscape. The Lord, he says, expressed himself in this glory; how shall we therefore interpret into lan- guage when he himself has taken this form of speech as the only adequate expression to convey his meaning to us ? Who does not feel this in looking at the glories of Nature in this perfect season ? And here is a final glimpse of Longfellow, at Man- chester-by-the-Sea, shortly after Don Pedro of Brazil had visited him in Cambridge : 128 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS Thursday y July 6, 1876. A fine rushing wind no rain, but a wind that seemed to tear everything up by the roots. I dared not venture out in the morning. To our surprise and delight Mr. Longfellow came to dine. He was pleased to find Anna here, and fell to talking of Heidelberg in German with her and quoting the poets most delightfully. We sat in the front hall and rejoiced over his presence as he talked, for he was in a fine talk- ing mood. He told us of the Emperor's visit and of his soldierly though most simple bearing; how he came to call upon him after his dinner, and when, as he rose to go, Longfellow said, "Your Majesty, I thank you for the honor you have done me." He said, "Ah ! no, Long- fellow, none of your nonsense, let us be friends together. I hope you will write to me. I will write you first and you must promise to answer." As they walked down the garden path together, Longfellow raised his hat and stepped one side as he was about to get into his car- riage. "No, no," he said laughingly, "there you are at it again." In short, he has left a pleasant memory behind. Longfellow told us his maids broke everything he possessed; at last they had broken a very beautiful Japanese vase or bowl which Charley brought home so he had made a Latin epitaph for the maid. Unhap- pily I recall only the last line : Nihil tetigit quod non Jregit. He described Blumenbach very amusingly, whose lectures on Natural History he attended as a youth in CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 129 Heidelberg. He descended from his desk one day and came and rested his hand on the rail just before which L. was seated. He had been speaking of Platonic love. "Und die Platonische Liebe ist nach Amerika gegan- gen," he said, looking at Longfellow. The whole stu- dent audience roared and applauded. He was in the loveliest spirits and manners. His friendly ways to my three friendless girls were not only such as to excite them profoundly, but there was sin- cere feeling in his invitation to them to call upon him and in his questions in their behalf. The wind subsided as we sat together ; the two young Bigelows sang "Maid of Athens" and one or two other songs, and then he departed. How sorry we were as we watched his retreating figure, as he and dear J. wound down the hill in the little phaeton. Mrs. Fields's gallery of friends would be incomplete without a single sketch of Whit tier's familiar outline. Out of many which the diaries contain, one may best be taken, for it shows him in company with that other friend, Celia Thaxter, whom also Mrs. Fields counted among the few to whose memory she devoted special chapters in her "Authors and Friends"; and it brings the three together at Mrs. Thaxter's native Isles of Shoals, so long a mecca of the "like-minded." July 12, 1873. I shall not soon forget our talk one afternoon in the parlor at "The Shoals." Whittier, as if inspired by that spirit residing in us which is the very 130 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS ground-work of the Quaker belief, began to speak of Emerson's faith and of the pain it gave him to see the name of Jesus placed in his writings as but one among many. When he discoursed with Emerson of these things, he could have no satisfaction. Celia, on the other I From a note of "Dear Whittier " to Mrs. Fields hand, said she did not understand these things; she never prayed. "I am sure thee does without knowing it," said W. ; "else what do thy poems mean ? Thee has not set prayer perhaps, but some kind of a prayer thee must have. No human being can exist without it. But what troubles me also in Emerson is that I can find no real faith in immortality." Here I took up the question. I had heard Mr. Emerson at Thoreau's grave, after- ward speaking expressly on immortality, and in both discourses I felt deeply his faith in our future progress CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 131 and enduring life. Whittier was inclined to think me mistaken. I think too that his use of Jesus' name is to prevent the worship of him instead of the One God. Whittier asked Celia to read a discourse of Emerson's, which she did aloud ; and again he spoke of the beauty of childlike worship, the necessity for it in our natures, and quoted some lovely hymns. His whole heart was alive and poured out toward us as if he longed tenderly like the prophet of old to breathe a new life into us. I could seem to see that he reproached himself that so many days had passed without his trying to speak more seriously. He was not perfectly well after this a headache overtook him before our talk was over and did not leave him until he found himself in Amesbury again. I trust it did so there. . . . Whittier said one day, when we were talking of the "Life of Charlotte Bronte" by Mrs. Gaskell, and I was saying how sad it was she should have made the old man, her father, suffer unto death, as she did, by telling the tale of his bad son's life, and "still worse," I said, "she came out in the Athenaeum and declared that her story was false, when she knew it was true, hoping to comfort the old man," "I don't know," said Whittier; "I am inclined to think that was the best part of it, if her lie would have done the old man any good ! " After we had our long afternoon session of talk over Emerson and future existence and the unknowable, Celia stood up and stretched herself and said, "How good it has been with the little song-sparrow putting in his oar above it all ! " 132 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS And what of Mrs. Fields herself, a woman of nearly forty when this last passage was written ? For the most part the diary reveals her but indirectly. Yet in the midst of all her pictures of her friends, a fragment of self-portraiture is occasionally found; and to one of them the reader of these pages is entitled. Proposed Dedication of Whittier's "Among the Hills" to Mrs. Fields. In a letter to Mrs. Fields , Whittier wrote: " I would like thy judgment about it. Would this do? " In altered form it appears in the book. December 18, 1873. Have been looking over "Wil- helm Meister"! I struck upon that marvellous pas- sage, "I reverence the individual who understands dis- tinctly what he wishes ; who unweariedly advances ; who knows the means conducive to his object, and can seize and use them. How far his object may be great or little is the next consideration with me"; and much CONCORD AND CAMBRIDGE 133 more quite as good to the same end. It prompts me to say what I wish to do in life. Aristotle writes : "Virtue is concerned with action, art with production." The problem of life is how to harmon- ize the two either career must become pro minent accord- ing to the nature of the individual. I discern in myself: ist, the desire to serve others unselfishly according to the example of our dear Lord ; 2nd, the desire to cultivate my powers in order to achieve the highest life possible to me as an individual existence by stimulating thought to its finest issues through reflection, observation, and by profound and ceaseless study of the written thoughts of the wisest in every age and every clime. To fulfil these aims we must be able to answer the simple question promptly to ourselves: "What then shall I do tomorrow and today?" Then, the decision being made, the thing alone must have all the earnest- ness put into it of a creature who knows that the next moment he may be called to his*account. As a woman and a wife my first duty lies at home; to make that beautiful ; to stimulate the lives of others by exchange of ideas, and the repose of domestic life ; to educate children and servants. 2nd, To be conversant with the very poor; to visit their homes; to be keenly alive to their sufferings; never allowing the thought of their necessities to sleep in our hearts. 3rd, By day and night,- morning and evening, in all times and seasons when strength is left to us, to study, study, study. 134 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS Because I have put this last, it does not stand last in importance ; but to put it first and write out the plan for study which my mind naturally selects would be to ignore that example of perfect life in which I humbly believe, and to return to the lives of the ancients, so fine in their results to the few, so costly to the many. But in the removed periods of existence, when solitude may be our blessed portion, what a joy to fly to communion with the sages and live and love with them ! I have written this out for the pleasure of seeing if "I distinctly understand what I wish." It is a wide plan, too wide, I fear, for much performance, but there- fore perhaps more conducive to a constant faith. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 1 WHEN Mrs. Fields wrote the "Personal Recollec- tions" of Oliver Wendell Holmes which appear in her "Authors and Friends," she quoted, with a few changes prompted by modesty, this passage from a letter re- ceived from him at Christmas, 1881 : "Except a few of my immediate family connections, no friends have seen me so often as a guest as did you and your husband. Under your roof I have met more visitors to be remem- bered than under any other. But for your hospitality I should never have had the privilege of personal ac- quaintance with famous writers and artists whom I can now recall as I saw them, talked with them, heard them in that pleasant library, that most lively and agreeable dining-room. How could it be otherwise with such guests as he entertained with his own unflagging vivacity and his admirable social gifts ?" One of the visitors thus encountered by Dr. Holmes was Charles Dickens. Here was a guest after the host's own heart and the hostess's. The host stood alone among publishers as a friend of the authors with whom it was his business to deal. Out of them all there was none with whom he came to stand on terms of closer sympathy and friendship than with Dickens. They had 1 The greater part of this chapter appeared in Harper's Magazine for May and June, 1922. 136 ^MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS first metTwhen Dickens came to America in 1842, and Fields was by no means the conspicuous figure he was to become. When he visited Europe in 1859-60, with his young wife, whose personality was to contribute its own beauty and charm to the hospitality of 148 Charles Street for many years to come, they dined with Dickens in London, visited him at Gad's Hill, and had much dis- cussion of a plan, which Fields had been urging upon him in correspondence, for Dickens to come to America for a course of readings. As early as in one of the letters of this time, Dickens wrote to Fields: "Here I forever renounce ' Mr. ' as having anything whatever to do with our communication, and as being a mere preposterous interloper." From such beginnings grew the intimacy which caused Dickens, when he drew up the humorous terms of a walking-match between Dolby, his manager, and Osgood, Fields 's partner, while the Boston readings of 1868 were in progress, to define Fields as "Massa- chusetts Jemmy" and himself as the "Gad's Hill Gasper" by virtue of his "surprising performances (without the least variation) on that true national in- strument, the American catarrh." The visits of Dickens to America, first in 1 842, then in the winter of 1867-68, have been the subject of abun- dant chronicle. For the first of them there is the direct record of his "American Notes," besides those indirect reflections in "Martin Chuzzlewit," which wrought an effect described by Carlyle in the characteristic saying that "all Yankee-doodledom blazed up like one uni- versal soda bottle." Many memorials of the second CHARLES DICKENS From a portrait by Francis Alexander, for many years in the Fields house, and now in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 137 visit are preserved in Fields's "Yesterdays with Authors," and in John Forster's "Life" both visits are of course recorded. There is, besides, one source of intimate record of Dickens in America which hitherto has remained almost untouched. 1 This is found in the diaries of Mrs. Fields, filled, as the preceding pages have shown, not merely with her own sympathetic observations, but with many things reported to her by her husband. To him it was largely due that Dickens crossed the Atlantic near the end of 1867. Landing in Boston, and soon beginning his extraordinarily popular readings, he found in the Charles Street house of the Fieldses a second home. "Steadily refusing all invitations to go out during the weeks he was reading," wrote Fields in his "Yesterdays with Authors," " he went only into one other house be- sides the Parker, habitually, during his stay in Boston." In that house Mrs. Fields wrote the diaries from which the following passages are taken. There Dickens was not merely a warmly welcomed friend and guest at dinner, but for a time an inmate. Henry James, sum- moning after Mrs. Fields's death his remembrances of her and of her abode, found in it "certain fine vibra- tions and dying echoes " of all the episode of Dickens's second visit. "I liked to think of the house," he wrote, "I couldn't do without thinking of it, as the great man's safest harborage through the tremendous gale 1 A few passages from it, relating to Dickens, are included in James T. Fields : Biographical Notes and Personal Sketches. When they are occa- sionally repeated here, it is in their original form, and not as Mrs. Fields edited them for publication. 138 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS of those even more leave-taking appearances, as fate was to appoint, than we then understood." In Dickens's state of physical health while the Fieldses were thus seeing him, lay the only token of an end not far off. All else was gayety and delight. The uncontrollable laughter where does one hear quite parallel notes to-day ? the simplicities of game and anecdote, the enthusiastic yielding of complete admira- tion, the glimpses of august figures of an earlier time all these serve equally to take one back over more than half a century, into a state of society about which an element of myth begins to form, and to bring out of that past the living, human figure of Dickens himself. For the most part these extracts from the diaries call for no explanations. Several months before the great visitor's arrival his coming was heralded by his business agent, of whom Mrs. Fields wrote : August 14, 1867. Mr. Dolby arrived today from England (Mr. Dickens's agent), a good, healthy, kindly natured man of whom Dickens seems really fond, hav- ing followed him to the steamer in Liverpool from Lon- don to see that all things were comfortably arranged for him. He says Dickens has lamed one of his feet with too much walking of late. He is here to arrange for ico nights, for which he hears he may receive $200,000 ; the readings to begin the first of December and to be chiefly given in New York City. August 15, 1867. Our day was quiet enough, but WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 139 when J. came down, he held us quite spellbound and magnetized all the evening with his account of Dickens, which Mr. Dolby had given him. He says Dolby him- self is a queer creature when he talks. He has a stutter which leads him to become suddenly stately in the middle of a homely phrase and to give a queer intona- tion to his voice, so that he did not dare look at Osgood (who was a listener also) lest they should both explode with laughter. Dickens now has five dogs; for these the cook pre- pares daily five plates of dinner. One day the plates were all ready when a small pup stole in and polished off the five plates. He fainted away immediately, and in this condition was discovered by the cook, who put him under the pump and revived him ; but he had been going about looking like the figure 8 ever since. Dickens is a warm friend of Fechter. One day, return- ing from a reading tour, his man met him at the sta- tion saying, "The fifty-eight boxes have come, sir/' "What?" said Mr. Dickens. "The fifty-eight boxes have come, sir." "I know nothing of fifty-eight boxes," said the other. "Well, sir," said the man, "they are all piled up outside the gate and we shall soon see, sir." They proved to be a Swiss chalet complete, handles, blinds, not a bit wanting, which Fechter had sent him. It is put up in a grove near the house, where it presents a very picturesque effect. Dickens allows nothing to escape his attention and gives "one small corner of the white of one eye" to his household concerns, though he seems not to observe. i 4 o MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS His daughter Mary has the governance of the servants, Miss Hogarth of the cellar and provisions. There is a system in everything with which he has to do. When he gives a reading, he is present in the hall at half-past six, although the reading does not begin until eight ; for Dickens cannot go about as other people do, he must go when the people do not press upon him. On reaching the private room, his servant brings his evening dress, reading desk, screen, lamps, when he arranges the hall, examines the copper gas-tubes to see if in order, dresses himself and is ready to begin. In Liverpool the other night he had advertised to read "Sergeant Buzfuz," instead of which by accident he read "Bleak House." Mr. Dolby spoke to him as soon as he had finished, telling him the mistake he had made. He at once re- turned to the desk, and said, "My friends, it is half- past ten o'clock and you see how tired I am, but I will still read Sergeant Buzfuz's speech if you expect it." "No, no," the crowd shouted; "you're tired. No, no, this ought to do for tonight." One tall man raised himself up in the gallery and said, "Look here, we came to hear Pickwick and we ought to hef it." "Very well, my friend," replied Dickens, immediately, "I will read Sergeant Buzfuz for your accommodation solely" ; and thereat he did read it to a breathless and delighted audience. At length came Dickens himself, and the diary takes up the tale : November 18, 1867. Today the steamer is tele- "THE TWO CHARLES'S" (CHARLES DICKENS AND CHARLES FECHTER). From a H^wtm, DrttnHg t, ALF.ED BHVAN. 1879. DICKENS AND FECHTER WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 141 graphed with Dickens on board, and the tickets for his readings have been sold. Such a rush! A long queue of people have been standing all day in the street a good-humored crowd, but a weary one. 1 The weather is clear but really cold, with winter's pinch in it. November 19. ... Yesterday I adorned Mr. Dickens's room with flowers, which seemed to please him. He was in the best of good spirits with every- thing. Thursday, November 21. Mr. Dickens dined here. Agassiz, Emerson, Judge Hoar, Professor Holmes, Nor- ton, Greene, dear Longfellow, last not least, came to welcome. Dickens sat on my right, Agassiz at my left. I never saw Agassiz so full of fun. . . . Dickens bubbled over with fun, and I could not help fancying that Holmes bored him a little by talking at him. I was sorry for this, because Holmes is so simple and lovely, but Dickens is sensitive, very. He is fond of Carlyle, seems to love nobody better, and gave the most irresistible imitation of him. His queer turns of expression often convulsed us with laughter, and yet it is difficult to catch them, as when, in speaking ot the writer of books, always putting himself, his real self, in, "which is always the case," he said; "but you must be careful of not taking him for his next-door neighbor." 1 On this very day Lowell wrote in the course of a letter to Fields : "James tells me you had a tremendous queue this morning. Don't fail to get me tickets, and for the first night. I should like to see his reception. It will leave a picture on the brain. And why should I not be there to welcome him, as well as Tom, Dick, or Harry ?" i 4 2 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS He spoke of the fineness of his Parisian audience "the most delicately appreciative of all audiences." He also gave a most ludicrous account of a seasick curate trying to read the service on board ship last Sunday. He tells us Browning is really about to marry Miss Ingelow, and of Carlyle, that he is deeply sad- dened, irretrievably, by the death of his wife. Just as we were in a tempest of laughter over some witticism of his, he jumped up, seized me by the hand, and said good-night. He neither smoked nor drank. "I never do either from the time my readings 'set in/" he said, as if it were a rainy season. . . . Among other interesting personal facts Dickens told us that he had last year burned all his private letters. An appeal from the daughter of Sydney Smith for some of his letters set him thinking on the subject, and one day when there was a big fire [sentence unfinished]. Mr. Dickens left the table just as we were in a tem- pest of laughter. Dr. Holmes . . . was telling how inap- preciative he had found some country audiences one he remembered in especial when his landlady accom- panied him to the lecture and her face, he observed, was the only one which relaxed its grimness! "Probably because she saw money enough in the house to cover your expenses," rejoined Dickens. That was enough; the laughter was prodigious. . . . Wednesday, November 27. What a pity that these days have flown while I have been unable to make any record of them. J. has been to walk each day with Dickens, and has come home full of wonderful things he WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 143 has said. 1 His variety is so inexhaustible that one can only listen in wonder. Thursday, 28. Thanksgiving Day. J. took Dick- ens to see the Aldriches' house. He was very much amused by what he saw there and has written out a full account to his daughter, Mrs. Collins. . . . I have made no record of our supper party of Wed- nesday evening. We had Alfred to wait, and a pretty supper and more important by far (tho' the first a con- sequent of the last) a pretty company. There were Mr. Dickens and Mr. Dolby, Helen Bell and Mrs. Silsbee, Mr. and Mrs. Bigelow, Mr. Hillard and Louisa and Mr. Beal. Mrs. Bell sang a little before supper (" Douglas " for one) very gracefully with real feeling. At nine o'clock oysters and fun began ; finally Mr. Dickens told several ghost stories, but none of them more interesting than a little bit of clairvoyance or what-you-will, which he let drop concerning himself. He said a story was sent to him for "All the Year Round," which he liked and ac- cepted ; just after the matter had been put in type, he received a letter from another person altogether from the one who had forwarded it in the first place, saying that he and not the first man was the author, and in proof of his position he supplied a date which was want- ing in the first paper. Curiously enough, Mr. Dickens, seeing the story hinged upon a date and the date being 1 Even after Dickens's return to England, his sayings found their way into Mrs. Fields's journal ; as, for example : "J u ty 4 1868. J. made me laugh this morning (it was far too hot to laugh) by telling me that Dickens said of Gray, the poet, 'No man ever walked down to posterity with so small a book under his arm ! '" 144 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS but a blank in the MS., had supplied one, as it were by chance, and, behold ! it was the same date which the new man had sent. Sunday. Dined with Mr. Dickens at six o'clock. Mr. and Mrs. Bigelow, Mr. Dolby and ourselves were the only guests. After dinner we played two or three games which I will set down lest they should be forgotten. Descriptions of "Buzz," "Russian Scandal," and another wholly innocent amusement may be omitted. Monday night , December 2, 1867. The first great reading! How we listened till we seemed turned into one eyeball ! How we all loved him ! How we longed to tell him all kinds of confidences ! How Jamie and he did hug in the anteroom afterward! What a teacher he seemed to us of humanity as he read out his own words which have enchanted us from childhood ! And what a house it was ! Longfellow, Dana, Norton (Mrs. Dana, Jr., and the three little Andrews went with us), and a world of lovely faces and ardent admirers. Tuesday came Miss Dodge and Mrs. Hawthorne, Julian, and Rose. The reading was quite as remarkable, tho* more quiet than that of the night before. As usual, we went to speak to him at his request after it was over. Found him in the best of spirits, but very tired. " You can't think," he said, "what resolution it requires to dress again after it is over !" Monday ', December 9. Left home at 8 A.M. for WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 145 New York. The day was clear and cold, the journey somewhat long, but on the whole extremely agreeable. We only had each other to plague or amuse, as the case might be, and we had the new Christmas story of Dick- ens and Wilkie Collins (called "No Thoroughfare") to read, and so by sufficient attention to the peculiarities or follies or troubles of our neighbors and some forge t- fulness of our own, we came to the Westminster Hotel at night, in capital spirits but rather frozen physically. We had scant time to dress and dine and to go to the Dickens reading. We accomplished it, nevertheless. Saw the rapturous enthusiasm, heard the "Carol" far better read than in Boston, because the applause was more ready and he felt stimulated by it. Afterward Mr. D. sent for us to come to his room. He was fatigued, of course, but we sat at table with him and after a while he began to feel warmer as vigor returned. He brought out his jewels for us to see a pearl Count D'Orsay once wore, set with diamonds, etc. laughed and talked about the way we dress and other bits of nonsense sug- gested by the time, all turned towards the fine light of Charles Dickens's lovely soul and returning with a fresh gleam of beauty. We left early lest we should overfatigue him. Wednesday, December 1 1 . At four Dickens came to dinner in our room with Eythinge and Anthony, his American designer and engraver. Afterward we went to the "Black Crook" together, and then home to the hotel, where we sat talking until one o'clock. There is nothing I should like so much to do as to set down every 146 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS word he said in that time, but much must go down to oblivion. . . . He talked of actors and acting said if a man's Hamlet was a sustained conception, it was not to be quarrelled with ; the only question was, what a man of melancholy temperament would do under such circum- stances. Talked of Charles Reade and the greatness of "Griffith Gaunt," and the pity of it that he did not stand on his own bottom instead of getting in with Dion Boucicault, etc., etc. But after dinner he unbent, and while we were in the box at the theatre showed how true his sympathies were with the actors, was especially care- ful to make no sound which could hurt their feelings by apparent want of attention. The play was very dull, so we sat and talked. He told me that no ballet dancer could have pretty feet, and one dreadful thing was they could never wash them, as water renders the feet ten- der and they must become horny. He asked about Longfellow's sorrow again and expressed the deepest sympathy, but said he was like a man purified by suffer- ing. We had punch in our room after the play, when he laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks over Bob Sawyer's party and the remembrance of the laughter he had seen depicted on the faces of people the night be- fore. Jack Hopkins was such a favorite with J. that D. made up the face again and went over the necklace story until we roared aloud. At length he began to talk of Fechter and to describe the sensitive character of the man. He saw him first quite by accident in Paris, hav- Reduced facsimile of Dickens's directions, preserved among the Fields papers, for the brewing of pleasant beverages 148 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS ing strolled into a little theatre there one night. He was making love to a woman, and so elevated her as well as himself by the sentiment in which he enveloped her that they trod into purer ether and in another sphere quite lifted out of the present. " ' By heavens ! ' I said, ' a man who can do this can do anything ! ' I never saw two people more purely and instantly elevated by the power of love. The manner in which he presses the hem of the dress of Lucy in the 'Bride of Lammermoor' is some- thing surpassing speech and simply wonderful. The man has a thread of genius in him which is unmistakable, yet I should not call him a man of genius exactly, either." Mr. Dickens described him as a man full of plans for plays, one who had lost much money as a manager, too. He was apt to come down to Gad's Hill with his head full of plans about a play which he wished Mr. Dickens to write out and which Fechter would act in the writing- room, using Mr. Dickens's small pillow for a baby in a manner to make the latter feel, if Fechter were but a writer, how marvellous his powers of representation would be. "I, who for so many years have been study- ing the best way of putting things, felt utterly amazed and distanced by this man." Before the end of our talk Mr. Dickens became pene- trated by the memory of his friend and brought him before us in all the warmth of ardent sympathy. Fechter is sure to come to this country : we are sure to have the happiness of knowing him (if we all live), and in that event I shall consider last night as the begin- ning of a new friendship. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 149 Sunday , December 22. Another week has gone. We are again at home in our dear little nook by the Charles, and tonight the lover of Christmas comes to have dinner with us. We had a merry time last Sunday, and after we had separated the hotel must needs take fire to be sure, I had been packing and was in my first sleep and knew nothing distinctly of it ; but it was an escape all the same and Mr. Dickens rushed out to help, as he always seems to do. ... At night came Mr. Dickens and Mr. Dolby, Mr. Lowell and Mabel, Mr. and Mrs. Dorr, to dinner. It was really a beautiful Christmas festival, as we intended it should be for the love of this new apostle of Christmas. Mr. Dickens talked all the time, as he always will do, generously, when the moment comes that he sees it is expected, of Sir Sam. Baker, of Froude, of Fechter again, this time as if he did not know the man, but spoke crit- ically as if he were a stranger, seeing Lowell's face when his name was mentioned, which inclined itself sneeringly. We played games at table afterward, which turned out so queerly that we had storms of laughter. What a shame it is to write down anything respecting one's contact with Charles Dickens and have it so slight as my accounts are ; but the subtle turns of conversa- tion are so difficult to render the way in which he represents the woman who will not on any account be induced to look at him while he is reading, and at whom he looks steadily, endeavoring to compel the eyes to move all these queer turns are too delicate to be set down. I thought I should have had a convulsion of 150 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS laughter when Mrs. Dorr said Miss Laura Howe sat down in her (Mrs. D.'s) room and wrote out a charade in such an unparalleled and brilliant manner that no- body could have outshone her not even the present company. " In the same given time, I trust ? " said Dick- ens. "No, no," said the lady, persistently. December 31. The year goes out clear and cold. The moon was marvellously bright last night, and every time I woke there she was with her attendant star look- ing freshly in upon us sleeping mortals in her eternal, unwearied way. We received a letter from Charles Dickens yesterday, saying he was coming to stay with us when he returns. What a pleasure this will be to us ! We anticipate his coming with continual delight! To have him as much as we can, at morning, noon, and night. This letter, long preserved in an American copy of "A Christmas Carol" on the shelves of the Charles Street library, throws a light of its own on the physical handicaps with which Dickens was struggling through all this time. WESTMINSTER HOTEL, NEW YORK Sunday, Twenty-Ninth December, 1867 MY DEAR FIELDS: When I come to Boston for the two readings of the 6th and 7th I shall be alone, as Dolby must be selling elsewhere. If you and Mrs. Fields should have no other visitor, I shall be very glad indeed on this occasion to WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 151 come to you. It is very likely that you may have some one with you. Of course you will tell me so if you have, and I will then reembellish the Parker House. Since I left Boston last, I have been so miserable that I have been obliged to call in a Dr. Dr. Fordyce Barker, a very agreeable fellow. He was strongly in- clined to stop the Readings altogether for some few days, but I pointed out to him how we stood committed, and how I must go on if it could be done. My great ter- ror was yesterday's Matinee, but it went off splendidly. (A very heavy cold indeed, an irritated condition of the uvula, and a restlessly low state of the nervous system, were your friend's maladies. If I had not avoided vis- iting, I think I should have been disabled for a week or so.) I hear from London that the general question in so- ciety is, what will be blown up next by the Fenians. With love to Mrs. Fields, Believe me, Ever affectionately yours, And hers, CHARLES DICKENS Saturday night, January 4. All in readiness. Mr. Dickens arrived punctually with Mr. Osgood at half- past nine. Hot supper was soon in order and we put ourselves at it. The dear "chief" was in the best of good humor in spite of a cold which hangs about him and stuffs up head and throat, only leaving him for two hours at night when he reads. 'T is something to be in first-rate mood with such a cold. MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS The Readings have been so successful in New York he cannot fail to be pleased, and he does not fail to show it. Kate Field, New Year's Eve, placed a basket of flowers on his table; he had seen her bright eyes and sensitive face, he said. I was glad for Kate, because he wrote her a little note, which pleased her, of course. Wednesday , January 8, 12 A.M. I take up the pen again, having bade our guest a most unwilling farewell. Last night he read " Copperfield " and the Trial from "Pickwick." It was an enormous house, packed in every extremity, receipts in gold about five hundred and ten pounds ! ! He was pleased, naturally, and read marvellously well even for him. He was some- what excited and a good deal tired when he returned, and in spite of a light supper and stiff glass of punch, which usually contains soporific qualities, he could not sleep until near morning. He has been in the best of spirits during this visit when he came downstairs last night to take a. cup of coffee before leaving, he turned to J., saying, "The hour has almost come when I to sulphurous and tormenting gas must render up my- self!" He has been afflicted with catarrh, which comes and goes and distracts him with a buzzing in his head. It usually leaves him for the two reading hours. This is convenient, but it probably returns with worse force. Sunday night dinner went off brilliantly. Longfellow, Appleton, Mr. and Mrs. Thaxter came to meet "the chief" and ourselves. Unfortunately there was one empty seat which Rowse, the artist, had promised to fill, but was ill at the last and could not curiously WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 153 enough we had asked Osgood, Miss Putnam, and Mr. Gay besides, all kept away by accident when they would have given their eyes to come. In the course of the day he had been to see (with O. W. H.) the ground of the Parkman murder which has lately been so clearly de- scribed by Sir Emerson Tennent in "All the Year Round"; in the evening the talk turned naturally enough that way, when, after much surmise with regard to the previous life of the man, Mr. Longfellow looked up and with an assured, clear tone, said : "Now I have a story to tell ! A year or two before this event took place Dr. Webster invited a party of gentlemen to a dinner at this house, I believe to meet some foreigner who was interested in science. The doctor himself was a chemist, and after dinner he had a large bowl placed in the centre of the table with some chemical mixture in it which he set on fire after turning the lamp low. A lurid light came from the bowl which caused a livid look upon the faces of those who sat round the table, and while all were observing the ghastly effect, Dr. Webster rose and, pulling a bit of rope from somewhere about his person, put it around his neck, reached his head over the bowl to heighten the effect, hung it on one side, and lolled his tongue out to give the appear- ance of a man who had been hanged ! ! ! The whole scene was terrible and ghastly in the extreme, and, remembered in the light of what followed, had a pre- science frightful to contemplate." * 1 See Forster's Life, III, 368, for the same story told by Dickens in a letter to Lord Lytton, without naming Longfellow as the narrator. 154 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS Appleton did not talk as much as usual, and we were rather glad ; but Mrs. Thaxter's story took strong hold on Dickens's fancy, and he told me afterward that when he awaked in the night he thought of her. I have seldom sat at dinner with a gentleman more care- ful and fine in his choice and taste of food and drink than C. D. The idea of his ever passing the bounds of temperance is an absurdity not to be thought of for a moment. In this respect he is quite unlike Mr. Thack- eray, who at times both ate and drank inordinately, and without doubt shortened his life by his careless- ness in these particulars. John Forster, C. D/s old friend, is quite ill with gout and some other ails, so C. D. writes him long letters full of his experiences. We breakfast at half-past nine punctually, he on a rasher of bacon and an egg and a cup of tea, always preferring this same thing Afterward we talk or play with the sewing-machine or anything else new and odd to him. Then he sits down to write until one o'clock, when he likes a glass of wine and biscuit, and afterward goes to walk until nearly four, when we dine. After dinner, reading days, he will take a cup of strong coffee, a tiny glass of brandy, and a cigar, and likes to lie down for a short time to get his voice in order. His man then takes a portmanteau of clothes to the reading hall, where he dresses for the evening. Upon our return we always have supper and he brews a marvellous punch, which usually makes us all sleep like tops after the excitement. The perfect kindliness and sympathy which radiates from the man is, after all, the secret never to WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 155 be told, but always to be studied and to thank God for. His rapid eyes, which nothing can escape, eyes which, when he first appears upon the stage, seem to interro- gate the lamps and all things above and below (like exclamation points, Aldrich says), are unlike anything before in our experience. There are no living eyes like them, swift and kind, possessing none of the bliss of ignorance, but the different bliss of one who sees what the Lord has done and what, or something of what, he intends. Such charity ! Poor man ! He must have learned great need for that. . . . He is a man who has suffered, evidently. Georgina Hogarth he always speaks of in the most affectionate terms, such as "she has been a mother to my children," "she keeps the list of the wine cellar, and every few days examines to see what we are now in want of." I hardly know anything more amusing than when he begs not to be "set a-going" on one of his .readings by a quotation or otherwise, and [it is] odd enough to hear him go on, having been so touched off. He has been a great student of Shakespeare, which appears often in his talk. His love of the theatre is something which never pales, he says, and the people who go upon the stage, however poor their pay or hard their lot, love it, he thinks, too well ever to adopt another vocation of their free will. One of the oddest sights a green room presents, he says, is when they are collecting children for a pantomime. For this purpose the prompter calls together all the women in the ballet and begins giving put their names in order, while they press about him, 156 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS eager for the chance of increasing their poor pay by the extra pittance their children will receive. "Mrs. John- son, how many ?" "Two, sir." "What years ?" "Seven and ten." "Mrs. B." and so on until the requisite number is made up. He says, where one member of a family obtains regular employment at the theatre, others are sure to come in after a time ; the mother will be in the wardrobe, children in pantomime, elder sisters in the ballet, etc. When we asked him to return to us, he said he must be loyal to "the show," and, having three or four men with him, ought to be at an hotel where he could attend properly to the business. He never forgets the needs of those who are dependent upon him, is liberal to his servants (and to ours also), and liberal in his heart to all sorts and conditions of* men. I have one deeply seated hope, that he will read for the Freed people before he leaves the country; and I cannot help thinking he will. . . . For more than a month from the time of this entry Dickens was carrying the triumph of his readings into other cities than Boston. There he had left a faithful champion in the person of Mrs. Fields, who wrote in her diary on January 26, 1868 : "It is odd how preju- diced people have allowed themselves to become about Dickens. I seldom make a call where his name is intro- duced that I do not feel the injustice done to him per- sonally, as if mankind resented the fact that he had excited more love than most men." As his return to WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 157 Boston drew near, she wrote, February i8th: "We are anticipating and doorkeeping for the arrival of our friend. Whatever unpleasant is said of Charles Dickens I take almost as if said against myself. It is so hard to help this when you love a friend/' On February 2ist there is the entry: "We go to Providence tonight to hear 'Dr. Marigold.' I have been full of plans for next week, which is to be a busy season with us of company." Saturday , February 22. We have heard "Mari- gold " ! To be sure, the audience was sadly stupid and unresponsive, but we were penetrated by it. ... What a night we had in Providence! Our beds were comfortable enough, for which we were deeply thankful ; but none of the party slept, I believe, except Mr. Dolby, and his rest was inevitably cut short in the morning by business. I believe I lay awake from pure pleasure after such a treat. Hearing "Marigold" and having supper afterward with the dear great man. We played a game at cards which was most curious indeed, something more so much more that I have forgotten to be afraid of him. In writing the chapter, "Glimpses of Emerson," in "Authors and Friends," Mrs. Fields drew freely upon the entry that here follows in its fullness. Tuesday morning, February 25. Somewhat fa- tigued. The "Marigold "went off brilliantly. He never read better nor was more universally applauded. Mr. 158 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS Emerson came down to go, and passed the night here ; of course we sat talking until late, he being much sur- prised at the artistic perfection of the performance. It was queer enough to sit by his side, for when his stoicism did at length break down, he laughed as if he must crumble to pieces at such unusual bodily agitation, and with a face on as if it hurt him dreadfully to look at him was too much for me, already full of laughter my- self. Afterward we all went in to shake hands for a moment. When we came back home Mr. Emerson asked me a great many questions about C. D. and pondered much. Finally he said, "I am afraid he has too much talent for his genius; it is a fearful locomotive to which he is bound and can never be free from it nor set at rest. You see him quite wrong, evidently; and would persuade me that he is a genial creature, full of sweetness and amenities and superior to his talents, but I fear he is harnessed to them. He is too consummate an artist to have a thread of nature left. He daunts me ! I have not the key." When Mr. Fields came in he repeated, "Mrs. Fields would persuade me he is a man easy to communicate with, sympathetic and accessible to his friends ; but her eyes do not see clearly in this matter, I am sure." "Look for yourself, dear Mr. Emerson," I answered, laughing, "and then report to me afterward." While we were enjoying ourselves in this way, a great change has come to the country. The telegram arrived during the Reading bringing the news of the President's WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 159 impeachment, 126 against 47. Since Johnson is to be thrust out, and since another revolution is upon us (Heaven help us that it be a peaceful one), we can only be thankful that the majority is so large. Mr. Dickens's account of the ability of Johnson, of his apparent in- tegrity and of his present temperance, as contrasted with the present (reported) failures of Grant in this respect, have made me shudder, for I presume Grant is inevit- ably the next man. Mrs. Agassiz was evidently pleased with the appearance of General Grant and his wife. She liked their repose of manner and ease ; but I think this rather a shallow judgment because poise and ease of manner belong to the coarsest natures and to the finest ; in the latter it is conquest ; and this is why these qualities have so high a place in the esteem of man ; but it is likewise the gift of society people who neither feel nor understand the varied natures with whom they come in contact. Longfellow is at work on a tragedy, of which no words are spoken at present. Today Mr. Dickens does not go out ; he is writing letters home. Yesterday he and J. walked seven miles, which is about their average gen- erally. . . . February 27. Longfellow's birthday. Last night Dickens went to a supper at Lowell's and J. passed the evening with Longfellow. L.'s tragedy comes on apace. He looks to Fechter to help him. Dickens has doubtless done much to quicken him to write. He has two nearly finished in blank verse, both begun since this month came in. J. returned at half-past eleven, bringing an 160 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS unread newspaper in his pocket which L. had lent him, telling him to read something to me about Dickens and return. Ah me ! We could have cried as we read ! It was the saddest of sad letters, written at the time the separation from his wife took place. The gen- tleman to whom he wrote it has died and the letter has stolen into print. I only hope the poor man may never see it. Tonight he reads "Carol" and "Boots" and sups here with Longfellow afterward. An entry in Mrs. Fields's diary about two years later indicates with some clearness that she overestimated the sympathy between Longfellow and Dickens. After a visit from Longfellow, she wrote, May 24, 1870 : When Mr. L. talks so much and so pleasantly, I am curiously reminded of Dickens's saying to Forster, who lamented that he did not see Longfellow upon his return to London, "It was not a great loss this time, Forster; he had not a word to say for himself he was the most embarrassing man in all England !" It is a difference of temperament which will never let those two men come together. They have no handle by which to take hold of each other. Longfellow told a gentleman at his table when J. was present that Dickens saved himself for his books, there was nothing to be learned in private he never talked!! To return to Dickens in Boston : WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 161 Sunday , March i . What a week we have had ! I feel utterly weary this morning, although I did start up with exceeding bravery and walked four miles just after breakfast, in order to see that the flowers were right at church and to ask some people to dinner today who could not, however, come. The air was very keen and exciting and I did not know I was tired until I came back and collapsed. Our supper came off Thursday, but without Dickens. His cold had increased upon him seriously and he was really ill after his long, difficult reading. But Longfellow was perfectly lovely, so easily pleased and so deeply pleased with my little efforts to make this day a festival time. Dickens and Whittier both sent affectionate and graceful notes when they found they really could not come. Our company stayed until two A.M., Emerson never more talkative and good. He is a noble purifier of the social atmosphere, always keeping the talk simple as possible but up to the highest pitch of thought and feeling. Friday, the Dana girls, Sallie and Charlotte, passed the night with us and went to the reading and shook hands with Mr. Dickens afterward. They were per- fectly happy when they went away yesterday. . . . [The walking match between Dolby and Osgood to which the following paragraph refers has already been mentioned. The elaborately humorous conditions of the contest, drawn up by Dickens, are printed in "Yester- days with Authors." "We have had such a funny paper from Dickens today," Mrs. Fields had written in her diary, on February 5th, "that it can only describe it- 162 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS self Articles drawn up arranging for a walk and din- ner upon his return here, as if it were some fierce legal document."] I had barely time yesterday, after the girls left, to dress and prepare some flowers and some lunch and make my way in a carriage, first to the Parker House at Mr. Dickens's kind request, to see if all the table ar- rangements were perfect for the dinner. I found he had done everything he could think of to make the feast go off well and had really left nothing for me to suggest, so I turned about and drove over the mill-dam, following Messrs. Dickens, Dolby, Osgood, and Fields, who had left just an hour before on a walking match of six miles out and six in. This agreement was made and articles drawn up several weeks ago, signed and sealed in form by all the parties, to come off without regard to the weather. The wind was blowing strong from the north- west, very cold, and the snow blowing, too. They had turned and were coming back when I came up with them. Osgood was far ahead and, after saluting them all and giving a cheer for America, discovering too that they had refreshed on the way, I drove back to Mr. Osgood, keeping near him and administering brandy all the way in town. The walk was accomplished in pre- cisely two hours forty-eight minutes. Of course Mr. Dickens stayed by his man, who was beaten out and out. They were all exhausted, for the snow made the walking extremely difficult, and they all jumped into carriages and drove home with great speed to bathe and sleep before dinner. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 163 At six o'clock we were assembled, eighteen of us, for dinner, looking our very best (I hope) at least we all tried for that, I am sure and sat punctually down to our elegant dinner. I have never seen a dinner more beautiful. Two English crowns of violets were at the opposite ends of the table and flowers everywhere ar- ranged in perfect taste. I sat at Mr. Dickens's right hand and next Mr. Lowell. Mrs. Norton sat the other side of our host, and he divided his attention loyally between us. He talked with me about Spiritualism as it is called, the humbug of which excites his deepest ire, although no one could believe more entirely than he in magnetism and the unfathomed ties between man and man. He told me many curious things about the traps which had been laid by well-meaning friends to bring him into "spiritual" circles. But he said, "If I go to a friend's house for the purpose of exposing a fraud in which she believes, I am doing a very disagreeable thing and not what she invited me for. Forster and I were in- vited to Lord Dufferin's to a little dinner with Home. I refused, but Forster went, saying beforehand to Lord Dufferin that Home would have no spirits about if he came. Lord Dufferin said, * Nonsense/ and the dinner came off; but they were hardly seated at table when Home announced that there was an adverse influence present and the spirits would not appear. 'Ah/ said Forster, 'my spirits in this case were clearer than yours, for they told me before I came that there would be no manifestations tonight. ' ' Speaking of dreams, he said he was convinced that no 164 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS man (judging from his own experience, which could not be altogether singular, but must be a type of the experi- ence of others), he believed no writer, neither Shake- speare nor Scott nor any other who had ever invented a character, had ever been known to dream about the creature of his imagination. It would be like a man's dreaming of meeting himself, which was clearly an im- possibility. Things exterior to oneself must always be the basis of our dreams. This talk about characters led him to say how mysterious and beautiful the action of the mind was around any given subject. "Suppose/* he said, " this wine-glass were a character, fancy it a man, endue it with certain qualities, and soon fine filmy webs of thoughts almost impalpable coming from every direc- tion, and yet we know not from where, spin and weave around it until it assumes form and beauty and becomes instinct with life. ..." Mr. Lowell asked him some question in a low voice about the country, when I heard him say presently that it was very much grown up, indeed he should not know oftentimes that he was not in England, things went on so much the same and with very few exceptions (hardly worth mentioning) he was let alone precisely as he would have been there. He loves to talk of Gad's Hill and stopped joyfully from other talk to tell me how his daughter Mary ar- ranged his table with flowers. He speaks continually of her great taste in combining flowers. "Sometimes she will have nothing but water-lilies," he said, as if the memory were a fragrance. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 165 Some one has said, "We cannot love and be wise." I will gladly give away the inconsistent wisdom, for Jamie and I are truly penetrated with grateful love to C.D. Wednesday , March 3. Mr. Dickens came over last night with Messrs. Osgood and Dolby, to pass the evening and have a little punch and supper and a merry game with us. . . . They left punctually before eleven, having promised the driver they would not keep him waiting in the cold. Jamie has every day long walks with him. He has told him much regarding the forms and habits of his life. He is fond of "Gad's Hill," and his "dear daughters" and their aunt, Miss Hogarth, make his home circle. What a dear one it is to him can be seen whenever his thought turns that way ; and if his letters do not come punctually, he is in low spirits. He is a great actor and artist, but above all a great and loving and well-beloved man. (This I cling to in memory of Mr. Emerson's dictum.) I am deep in Carlyle's history and every little thing I hear chimes in with that. After the dinner (at the Parker) the other night, Mr. Dickens thought he would take a warm bath; but, the water being drawn, he began playing the clown in pantomime on the edge of the bath (with his clothes on) for the amusement of Dolby and Osgood; in a moment and before he knew where he was, he had tumbled in head over heels, clothes and all. A second and improved edition of "Les Noy- ades," I thought. Surely this book is a marvel of thought 166 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS and labor. Why, why have I left it unknown to myself until now ? I fear, unlike Lowell, it is because I could not read eighteen uninterrupted hours without apo- plexy or some other 'exy, which would destroy what power I have forever. March 6. Mr. Dickens dined here last night without company except Messrs. Dolby and Osgood and Howells. We had a very merry time. They had been to visit the Cambridge Printing Office in the after- noon and had been shown so many things that "the chief" said he began to think he should have a bitter hatred against any mortal who undertook to show him anything else in the world, and laughed immoderately at J. T. F/s proposition to show him the new fruit house afterward. We all had a game of Nincomtwitch and separated rather early because we were going to a party ; and as C. D. shook me by the hand to say good-bye, he said he hoped we would have a better time at this party than he ever had at any party in all his life. A part of the dinner-time was taken up by half guess and half calculation of how far Mr. Dickens's manuscript would extend in a single line. Mr. Osgood said 40 miles. J. said 100,000 ( ! !). I believe they are really going to find out. C. D. said he felt as if it would go farther than 40 miles, and was inclined to be "down" on Osgood until he saw him doing figures in his head after a fearful fashion. All this amusing talk served to give one a strange, weird sensation of the value of words over time and space; these little marks of immeasurable value covering so slight a portion of the rough earth ! Howells WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 167 talked a little of Venice, thought the Ligurians lived better than the Venetians. C. D. said they ate but little meat when he lived in Genoa; chiefly "pasta" with a good soup poured over it. ... He leaves Boston today, to return the first of April, so I will end this poor little surface record here, hoping always that the new sheet shall have something written down of a deeper, simpler, and more inseeing nature. On the return of Dickens to Boston, Mrs. Fields dined with him at the Parker House, March 31, 1868, and, commenting on his lack of "talent" for sleeping, wrote in her diary : I remember Carlyle says, "When Dulness puts his head upon his mattresses, Dulness sleeps," referring to the apathetic people who went on their daily habits and avocations in Paris while men were guillotined by thou- sands in the next street. Mr. Dickens talked as usual, much and naturally first of the various hotels of which he had late experience. The one in Portland was particularly bad, the dinner, poor as it was, being brought in small dishes, " as if Osgood and I should quar- rel over it," everything being very bad and disgusting which the little dishes contained. At last they came to the book, "Ecce Homo," in which Dickens can see nothing of value, any more than we. He thinks Jesus foresaw and guarded as well as he could against the misinterpreting of his teaching, that the four Gospels are all derived from some anterior 168 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS written Scriptures made up, perhaps, with additions and interpolations from the "Talmud/* in which he ex- pressed great interest and admiration. Among other things which prove how little the Gospels should be taken literally is the fact that broad phylacteries were not in use until some years after Jesus lived, so that the passage in which this reference occurs, at least, must only be taken as conveying the spirit and temper, not the actual form of speech, of our Lord. Mr. Dickens spoke reverently and earnestly, and said much more if I could recall it perfectly. Then he came to "spiritualism" again, and asked if he had ever told us his interview with Colchester, the famous medium. He continued that, being at Kneb- worth one day, Lytton, having finished his dinner and retired to the comfort of his pipe, said : "Why don't you see some of these famous men ? What a pity Home has just gone." (Here Dickens imitated to the life Lytton's manner of speaking, so I could see the man.) "Well," said D., "he went on to say so much about it that I inquired of him who was the next best man. He said there was one Colchester, if possible better than Home. So I took Colchester's address, got Charley Collins, my son-in-law, to write to him asking an interview for five gentlemen and for any day he should designate, the hour being two o'clock. A day being fixed, I wrote to a young French conjuror, with whom I had no acquaint- ance but had observed his great cleverness at his busi- ness before the public, to ask him to accompany us. He acceded with alacrity. Therefore, with poor Chaun- WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 169 cey Townshend, just dead, and one other person whom I do not at this moment recall, we waited upon Mr. Col- chester. As we entered the room, I leading the way, the man, recognizing me immediately, turned deadly pale, especially when he saw me followed by the con- juror and Townshend, who, with his colored imperial and beard and tight-fitting wig, looked like a member of the detective police. He trembled visibly, became livid to the eyes, all of which was visible in spite of paint with which his face was covered to the eyes. He withdrew for a few minutes, during which we heard him in hot discussion with his accomplice, telling him how he was cornered and trying to imagine some way in which to get out of the trap, the other evidently urg- ing him to go through with it now the best way he could. He returned, therefore, and placed himself with his back to the light, while it shone upon our faces. We sat awhile in silence until he began, insolently turning to me : 'Take up the alphabet and think of somebody who is dead, pass your hands over the letters, and the spirit will indicate the name.' I thought of Mary and took the alphabet, and when I came to M, he rapped; but I was sure that I had unconsciously signified by some movement and determined to be more skilful the next time. For the next letter, therefore, he went on to H, and then asked me if that was right. I told him I thought the spirits ought to know. He then began with some one else, but doing nothing he became hotter and hotter, the perspiration pouring from his face, until iyo MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS he got up, said the spirits were against him, and was about to withdraw. I then rose and told him that it was the most shameless imposition, that he had got us there with the intent to deceive and under false pre- tences, that he had done nothing and could do nothing. He offered to return our money I said the fact of his taking the money at all was the point. At last the wretch said, turning to the Frenchman, 'I did tell you one name, Valentine/ 'Yes/ answered the young con- juror, with a sudden burst of English, 'Yes, but I showed it to you !' indicating with a swift movement of the hand how he had given him a chance." Then it was all up with Colchester, and more scathing words than those spoken by Dickens to him have been seldom spoken by mortal. It was the righteous anger of one trying to avenge and help the world. Mr. Dickens always seems to me like one who, working earnestly with his eyes fixed on the immutable, nevertheless finds to his own sur- prise that his words place him among the prophets. He does not arrogate a place to himself there ; indeed he is singularly humble (as it seems to us) in the moral position he takes ; but for all that is led by the Divine Hand to see what a power he is and in an unsought-for manner finds himself among the teachers of the earth. He says nowhere is a man placed in such an unfair position as at church. If one could only be allowed to get up and state his objections, it would be very well, but under the circumstances he declines being preached to. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 171 A few days later Mrs. Fields heard Dickens read the "Christmas Carol" for the last time in Boston. Such a wonderful evening as it was ! ! We were on fire with enthusiasm and in spite of some people who went with us ... looking, as C. D. said, as if they were sorry they had come, they were really filled with enthusiasm, and enjoying as fully as their critical and crossed natures would allow. He himself was full of fun and put in all manner of queer things for our amusement ; but what he put in, involuntarily, when he turned on a man who was standing staring fixedly at him with an opera glass, was almost more than we could bear. The stolidity of the man, the fixed glass, the despairing, annihilating look of Dickens were too much for our equanimity. Thursday. Anniversary of C. D/s marriage day and of John Forster's birthday. C. D. not at all well, coughing all the time and in low spirits. Mr. Dolby came in when J. was there in the morning to say there were two gentlemen from New Bedford (friends of Mr. Osgood's) who wished to see him. Would he allow them to come in ? "No, I '11 be damned if I will," he said, like a spoiled child, starting up from his chair! J. was equally amused and astonished at the outburst, but sleeplessness, narcotics, and the rest of the crew of disturbers have done their worst. My only fear is he may be ill. However, they had a walk together towards noon and he revived, but coughed badly in the evening. I think, too, only $1300 in the house was bad for his spirits ! 172 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS April 7. Dickens . . . told Jamie the other day in walking that he wrote "Nicholas Nickleby" and "Oliver Twist" at the same time for rival magazines from month to month. Once he was taken ill, with both magazines waiting for unwritten sheets. He immedi- ately took steamer for Boulogne, took a room in an inn there, secure from interruption, and was able to return just in season for the monthly issues with his work com- pleted. He sees now how the work of both would have been better done had he worked only upon one at a time. After the exertion of last evening he looked pale and exhausted.. Longfellow and Norton joined with us in trying to dissuade him from future Readings after these two. He does not recover his vitality after the effort of reading, and his spirits are naturally somewhat de- pressed by the use of soporifics, which at length became a necessity. . . . " Copperfield " was a tragedy last night less vigor but great tragic power came out of it. April 8. In spite of a deluge of rain last night there was a large audience to hear Dickens, and Long- fellow came as usual. He read with more vigor than the night before and seemed better. . . . The time ap- proaches swiftly for our flight to New York. We dread to leave home and would only do it for him, besides, the pleasure must be much in the fact of trying to do some- thing rather than in really doing anything, for I fear he will be too ill and utterly fatigued to care much about anything but rest. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 173 Friday, April 10. Left home at eight o' clock in the morning, found our dearly beloved friend C. D. already awaiting us, with two roses in his coat and look- ing as fresh as possible. It was my first ride in America in a compartment car. Mr. Dolby made the fourth in our little party and we had a table and a game of "Nin- com" and "Casino" and talked and laughed and whiled away the time pleasantly until we arrived here at the Westminster Hotel in time for dinner at six. I was im- pressed all day long with the occasional languor which came over C. D. and always with the exquisite delicacy and quickness of his perception, something as fine as the finest woman possesses, which combined itself won- drously with the action of the massive brain and the rapid movement of those strong, strong hands. I felt how deeply we had learned to love him and how hard it would be for us to part. At dinner he gave us a marvellous description of his life as a reporter. It seems he invented (in a measure) a system of stenography for himself; this is to say he altered Gurney's system to suit his own needs. He was a very young man, not yet 20, when at seven guineas a week he was engaged as reporter on the" Morning Chron- icle," then a very large and powerful paper. At this period the present Lord Derby, then Mr. Stanley, was beginning his brilliant career, and O'Connell, Shiel, and others were at the height of their powers. Wherever these men spoke a corps of reporters was detailed to follow them and with the utmost expedition forward verbatim reports to the " Chronicle." Often and often he 174 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS has gone by post-chaise to Edinburgh, heard a speech or a part of it (having instructions, whatever happened, to leave the place again at a certain hour, the next re- porter taking up his work where he must leave it), and has driven all the way back to London, a bag of sover- eigns on one side of his body and a bag of slips of paper on the other, writing, writing desperately all the way by the light of a small lamp. At each station a man on horseback would stand ready to seize the sheets already prepared and ride with them to London. Often and often this work would make him deadly sick and he would have to plunge his head out of the window to re- lieve himself; still the writing went steadily forward on very little slips of paper which he held before him, just resting his body on the edge of the seat and his paper on the front of the window underneath the lamp. As the station was reached, a sudden plunge into the pocket of sovereigns would pay the postboys, another behind him would render up the completed pages, and a third into the pocket on the other side would give him the fresh paper to carry forward the inexorable, unremitting work. At this period there was a large sheet started in which all the speeches of Parliament wera reported verbatim in order to preserve them for future reference a mon- strous plan which fell through after a time. For this paper it was especially desired to have a speech of Mr. Stanley accurately reported upon the condition of Ire- land, containing suggestions for the amelioration of the people's suffering. It was a very long and eloquent speech and took many hours in the delivery. There were WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 175 eight reporters upon the work, each to work three- quarters of an hour and then to retire to write out his portion and be succeeded by the next. It happened that the roll of reporters was exhausted before the speech came to an end and C. D. was called in to report the last portions, which were very eloquent. This was on Friday, and on Saturday the whole was given to the press and the young reporter ran down to the country for a Sunday's rest. Sunday morning had scarcely dawned "when my poor father, who was a man of im- mense energy, surprised me by making his appearance The speech had come into Mr. Stanley's hands, who was most anxious to have it correctly given in order to have it largely circulated in Ireland, and he found it all bosh, hardly a word right, except at the beginning and the end. Sending immediately to the office, he had ob- tained my sheets, at the top of which, according to cus- tom, the name of the reporter was written, and, finding the name of Dickens, had immediately sent in search of me. My father, thinking this would be the making of me, came immediately, and I followed him back to London. I remember perfectly the look of the room and of the two gentlemen in it as I entered Mr. Stanley and his father. They were extremely courteous, but I could see their evident surprise at the appearance of so young a man. For a moment as we talked I had taken a seat extended to me in the middle of the room. Mr. Stanley told me he wished to go over the whole speech, and if I was ready he would begin. Where would I like to sit ? I told him I was very well where I was and we 176 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS would begin immediately. He tried to induce me to sit elsewhere or more comfortably, but at that time in the House of Commons there was nothing but one's knees to write upon and I had formed the habit of it. Without further pause then he began, and went on hour after hour to the end, often becoming very much excited, bringing down his hand with violence upon the desk near which he stood and rising at the end into great elo- quence. "In these later years we never meet without that scene returning vividly to my mind, as I have no doubt it does to his also, but I, of course, have never referred to it, leaving him to do so if he shall ever think fit. "Shiel was a small man with a queer high voice and spoke very fast. O'Connell had a fine brogue which he cultivated, and a magnificent eye. He had written a speech about this time upon the wrongs of Ireland, and, though he repeated it many, many times during three months when I followed him about the country, I never heard him give it twice the same, nor ever without being himself deeply moved." 1 Mr. Dickens's imitation of Bulwer Lytton is so vivid that I feel as if it were taking a glimpse at the man him- self. His deaf manner of speaking he represents exactly. He says he is very brilliant and quick in conversation, and knows everything ! ! He is a conscientious and un- remitting student and worker. "I have been surprised to see how well his books wear. Lately I have reread 1 In Yesterdays with Authors (see pp. 230-31), Fields made use, with re- visions and omissions, of this portion of his wife's diary. WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 177 'Pelham' and I assure you I found it admirable. His speech at the dinner given to me just before leaving was well written, full of good things, but delivered exe- crably. He lacks a kind of confidence in his own powers which is necessary in a good speaker." Speaking of O'Connell, Mr. Dickens said there had been nobody since who could compare with him but John Bright, who is at present the finest speaker in Eng- land. Cobden was fond of reasoning, and hardly what would be called a brilliant speaker ; but his noble truth- fulness and devotion to the cause to which he had pledged himself made him one of the grandest of Eng- land's great men. I asked about Mrs. Cobden. He told me she had been made very comfortable and in a beauti- ful manner. After her husband's death, his affairs hav- ing become involved by some bad investment he had made, a committee of six gentlemen came together to consider what should be done to commemorate his great and unparalleled devotion to his country. The result was, instead of having a public subscription for Mrs. Cobden with the many unavoidable and disagreeable features of such a step, each of these gentlemen sub- scribed about 12,000, thus making 70,000, a suffi- cient sum to make her most comfortable for life. . . . I have forgotten to say how in those long rides from Edinburgh the mud dashed up and into the opened windows of the post-chaise, nor how they would be obliged to fling it off from their faces and even from the papers on which they wrote. As Dickens told us, he flung the imaginary evil from him as he did the real in 178 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS the days long gone, and we could see him with the old disgust returned. He said, by the way, that never since those old days when he left the House of Com- mons as a Reporter had he entered it again. His hatred of the falseness of talk, of bombastic eloquence, he had heard there made it impossible for him ever to go in again to hear anyone. Sunday, April 12. Last night we went to the circus together, C. D., J., and I. It is a pretty building. I was astonished at the knowledge C. D. showed of every- thing before him. He knew how the horses were sten- ciled, how tight the wire bridles were, etc. The monkey was, however, the chief attraction. He was rather drunk or tired last night and did not show to good ad- vantage, but he knew how to do all the things quite as well as the men. When the young rope-dancer slipped (he was but an apprentice at the business, without wages, C. D. thought), he tried over and over again to accomplish a certain somersault until he achieved it. "That 's the law of the circus," said C. D. ; "they are never allowed to give up, and it 's a capital rule for everything in life. Doubtless this idea has been handed down from the Greeks or Romans and these people know nothing about where it came from. But it 's well for all of us." . . . At six o'clock Mr. Dickens and Mr. Dolby came in to dinner. He seemed much revived both in health and spirits, in spite of the weather. . . . Dickens talked of Frederick Lemaitre ; he is upwards of sixty years old now; but he has always lived a WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 179 wretched life, a low, poor fellow ; yet he will surprise the actors continually by the new points he will make. He will come in at rehearsal, go about the stage in an abject wretched manner, with clothes torn and soiled as he has just emerged from his vulgar, vicious haunts, and without giving sign or glimmer of his power. Presently he says to the prompter, who always has a tallow candle burning on his box, "Give me your candle"; then he will blow it out and with the snuff make a cross upon his book. "What are you going to do, Frederick ?" the actors say. " I don't know yet ; you '11 see by and by," he says, and day after day perhaps will pass, until one night when he will suddenly flash upon them some won- derful point. They, the actors, watching him, try to hold themselves prepared, and if he gives them the least hint will mould their parts to fit his. Sometimes he will ask for a chair. "What will you do with it, Fred- erick ?" He does not reply, but night after night the chair is placed there until he makes his point. He often comes hungry to the theatre, and the manager must give him a dinner and pay for it before he will go on. Fechter, from whom these particulars come, tells Dickens that there can be nothing more wonderful than his acting in the old scene of the miserable father who kills his own son at the inn. The son, coming in rich and handsome, and seeing this old sot about to be driven from the porch by the servant, tells the man to give him meat and wine. While he eats and drinks, the wretch sees how freely the rich man handles his gold and re- solves to kill him. Fechter's description, with his own i8o MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS knowledge of Lemaitre, had so inspired Dickens that he was able to reproduce him again for us. Wednesday y April 15. [On returning from a read- ing in "Steinway Hall, than which nothing could be worse for reading or speaking "] : He soon came up after a little soup, when he called for brandy and lemons and made such a burnt brandy punch as has been seldom tasted this side of the "pond." As the punch blazed his spirits rose and he began to sing an old- fashioned comic song such as in the old days was given between the plays at the theatre. One song led to an- other until we fell into inextinguishable laughter, for anything more comic than his renderings of the chorus cannot be imagined. Surely there is no living actor who could excel him in these things if he chose to exert his ability. His rendering of " Chrush ke Ian ne chous- kin ! !" or a lingo which sounded like that (the refrain of an old Irish song) was something tremendous. We laughed till I was really afraid he would make himself too hoarse to read the next night. He gave a queer old song full of rhymes, obtained with immense difficulty and circumlocution, to the word "annuity," which it appeared has been sought by an old woman with great assiduity and granted with immense incongruity. The negro minstrels have in great part supplanted these queer old English, Irish, and Scotch ballads, but they are sure to come up again from time to time. We did not separate until 12, and felt the next morning (as he said) as if we had had a regular orgy. They did not forget, Dolby and he, to pay a proper tribute to "Mary- WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 181 land, My Maryland," and "Dixie" as very stirring ballads. [After another reading, from which Dickens came home extremely tired] : We ran in at once to talk with him and he soon cheered up. When I first pushed open the door he was a perfect picture of prostration, his head thrown back without support on the couch, the blood suffusing his throat and temples again where he had been very white a few minutes before. This is a physical peculiarity with Dickens which I have never seen before in a man, though women are very subject to that thing. Excitement and exercise of reading will make the blood rush into his hands until they become at times almost black, and his face and head (especially since he has become so fatigued) will turn from red to white and back to red again without his being conscious of it. Friday, April 17. Weather excessively warm, sky often overcast. Last evening Mr. Dickens read again and for the last time " Copperfield " and " Bob Sawyer." He was much exhausted and said he watched a man who was carried out in a fainting condition to see how they managed it, with the lively interest of one who was about to go through the same scene himself. The heat from the gas around him was intolerable. After the reading we went into his room to have a little soup, "broiled bones," and a sherry cobbler. His spirits were good in spite of fatigue, the thought of home and the memories of England coming back vividly. We, finally, from talk of English scenery, found ourselves in Strat- 1 82 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS ford. He says there is an inn at Rochester, very old, which he has no doubt Shakespeare haunted. This con- viction came forcibly upon him one night as he was walking that way and discovered Charles's Wain set- ting over the chimney just as Shakespeare has described. "When you come to Gad's Hill, please God, I will show you Charles's Wain setting over the old roof." We left him early, hoping he would sleep, but he hardly closed his eyes all night. Whether he was haunted by visions of home, or what the cause was, we cannot discover, but whatever it may be, his strength fails under such unnatural and continual excitement. Saturday, April 18. Mr. Dickens has a badly sprained foot. We like our rooms at his hotel 47 is the number. Last night was "Marigold" and "Gamp" for the last time. He threw in a few touches for our amusement and a great deal of vigor into the whole. Afterward we took supper together, when he told us some remarkable things. Among others he rehearsed a scene described to him years ago by Dr. Eliotson of London of a man about to be hanged. His last hour had approached as the doctor entered the cell of the crim- inal, who was as justly sentenced as ever a wretch was for having cut off the end of his own illegitimate child. The man was rocking miserably in his chair back and forth in a weak, maudlin condition, while the clergyman in attendance, who had spoken of him as repentant and religious in his frame of mind, was administering the sacrament. The wine stood in a cup at one side until the sacred words were said, when at the proper moment the WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 183 clergyman gave it to the man, who was still rocking backward and forward, muttering, "What will my poor mother think of this?" Finding the cup in his hands, he looked into it for a moment as if trying to collect him- self, and then, putting on his regular old pothouse man- ner, he said, "Gen'lemen, I drink your health," and drained the cup in a drunken way. "I think," said C. D., "it is thirty years since I heard Dr. Eliotson tell me this, but I shall never forget the horror that scene inspired in my mind." The talk had taken this turn from the fact of a much-dreaded Press dinner which is to come off tonight and which jocosely assumed the idea of a hanging to their minds. C. D. said he had often thought how restricted one's conversation must become with a man who was to be hanged in half an hour. "You could not say, if it rains, 'We shall have fine weather tomorrow!' for what would that be to him? For my part, I think I should confine my remarks to the times of Julius Caesar and King Alfred ! !" He then related a story of a condemned man out of whom no evidence could be elicited. He would not speak. At last he was seated before a fire for a few moments, just before his execution, when a servant entered and smothered what fire there was with a huge hodful of coal. "In half an hour that will be a good fire" he was heard to murmur. Mr. Dickens has now read 76 times. It seems like a dream. Sunday, April 19. Last night the great New York Press dinner came off. It was a close squeeze with Mr. Dickens to get there at all. He had been taken 184 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS lame the night before, his foot becoming badly swollen and painful. In spite of a skilful physician he grew worse and worse every hour, and when the time for the dinner arrived he was unable to bear anything upon his foot. So long as he was above ground, however, it was a necessity he should go, and an hour and a half after the time appointed, with his foot sewed up in black silk, he made his way to Delmonico's. Poor man ! Nothing could be more unfortunate, but he bore this difficult part off in a stately and composed manner as if it were a sign of the garter he were doffing for the first time in- stead of a badge of ill health. The worst of it is that the papers will telegraph news of his illness to England. This seems to disturb him more than anything else. Ah ! What a mystery these ties of love are such pain, such ineffable happiness the only happiness. After his return he repeated to me from memory every word of his speech without dropping one. He never thinks of such a thing as writing his speeches, but simply turns it over in his mind and "balances the sentences," when he is all right. He produced an immense effect on the Press of New York, tremendous applause responding to every sentence. Curtis's speech was very beautiful. "I think him the very best speaker I ever heard," said C. D. "I am sure he would produce a great effect in England from the sympathetic quality he possesses." I have seldom seen a finer exercise of energy of will than Mr. Dickens's attendance on this dinner. It brought its own reward, too, for he returned with his foot feeling better. He made a rum punch in his room, where we sat until one WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 185 o'clock. After repeating his speech, he gave us an imi- tation of old Rogers as he would repeat a quatrain : "The French have sense in what they do Which we are quite without, For what in Paris they call gotit In England we call gout." Mr. Dolby sat at dinner near a poor bohemian of great keenness of mind, Henry Clapp, by name, who said some things worthy of Rivarol or any other wittiest French- man we might choose to select. Speaking of Horace Greeley (the chairman at the dinner), he said : "He was a self-made man and worshipped his creator." Of Dr. O , a vain and popular clergyman, that "he was continually looking for a vacancy in the Trinity." Of Mr. Dickens, that "nothing gave him so high an idea of Mr. Dickens's genius as the fact that he created Uriah Heep without seeing a certain Mr. Young (who sat near them), and Wilkins Micawber without being acquainted with himself (Henry Clapp)." Of Henry T that "he aimed at nothing and always hit the mark precisely." . . . This speech of Mr. Dickens will make a fine effect, a reactionary effect, in the country. The enthusiasm for him knew no bounds. Charles Norton spoke for New England. I had a visit from him this morning as well as from Mr. Osgood, Dolby, etc. C. D. lunched at the Jockey Club with Dr. Barker and Donald Mitchell and returned to dine with us. He talked of actors, artists, and the clergy church and religion but was evi- dently suffering more or less all the time with his foot, 1 86 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS yet kept up a good heart until nine o'clock, when he re- tired to the privacy of his own room. He feels bitterly the wrong under which English dissenters have labored for years in being obliged not only to support their own church interests in which they do believe, but also the abuses of the English Church against which their whole lives are a continual protest. He spoke of the beauty of the landscape through which we had both been walking and driving under a grey sky, with the eager spring looking out among leafless branches and dancing in the red and yellow sap. He said it had always been a fancy of his to write a story, keeping the whole thing in the same landscape, but picturing its constantly varying effects upon men and things and chiefly, of course, upon the minds of men. He asked me if I had ever read Grabbers "Lover's Ride." We became indignant over a tax of five per cent which had just been laid upon the entire proceeds of his Readings, telegraphed to Wash- ington, and found that it was unjust and had been taken off. Monday , April 20. Attended a meeting of a new "institution" just on foot, first called "Sorosis" and afterwards "Woman's League" for the benefit and mutual support of women. It was the first official meet- ing, but it proved so unofficial that I was entertained, and amused as well, and was able on my return to make Mr. Dickens laugh until he declared if anything could make him feel better for the evening that account of the Woman's League would. Tuesday. I find it very difficult today to write at WITH DICKENS IN AMERICA 187 all. Mr. Dickens is on his bed and has been unable to rise, in spite of efforts all day long. . . . Mr. Norton has been here and we have been obliged to go out, but our hearts have been in that other room all the time where our dear friend lies suffering. . . . Oh! these last times what heartbreak there is in the words. I lay awake since early this morning (though we did not leave him until half-past twelve) feeling as if when I arose we must say good-bye. How relieved I felt to brush the tears away and know there was one more day, but even that gain was lessened when I found he could not rise and even this must be a day of separation too. When Jamie told him last night he felt like erecting a statue to him because of his heroism in doing his duty so well, he laughed and said, "No, don't ; take down one of the old ones instead !" The diary goes on to express the genuine sorrow of Mrs. Fields and her husband at parting from a friend who had so completely absorbed their affection, but in terms which the diarist herself would have been the first to regard as more suitable for manuscript than for print. The pages that contain them throw more light upon Mrs. Fields a warm and tender light it is than upon Dickens. There is, however, one paragraph, written after the Fieldses had returned to Boston from New York, which tells something both of Dickens and of Queen Victoria, in whose personality the public in- terest appears to be perpetual ; and with this passage the quotations from the diary shall end. 1 88 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS Friday , April 24. After the Press dinner in New York Mr. Dickens repeated all his speech to me, as I believe I have said above, never dropping a word. "I feel," he said, "as if I were listening to the sound of my own voice as I recall it. A very curious sensation." Jamie asked him if Curtis was quite right in the facts of his speech. He said, "Not altogether, as, for instance, in that matter about the Queen and our little play, 'Frozen Deep/ We had played it many times with con- siderable success, when the Queen heard of it and Colonel Phipps ( ?) called upon me and said he wished the Queen could see the play. Was there no hall which would be appropriate for the occasion ? What did I think of Buckingham Palace ? I replied that could not be, for my daughters played in the piece and I had never asked myself to be presented at court nor had I ever taken the proper steps to introduce them there, and of course they could not go as amateur performers where they had never been as visitors. This seemed to trouble him a good deal, so I said I would find some hall which would be appropriate for the purpose and would ap- point an evening, which I did immediately, taking the Gallery of Illustration and having it fitted up for the purpose. I then drew up a list of the company, chiefly of artists, literary and scientific men, and interesting ladies, which I caused to be submitted to the Queen, begging her to reject or add as she thought proper, set- ting aside forty seats for the royal party. The whole thing went off finely until after the first play was over, when the Queen sent round a request that I would come TAVISTOCK HOUSE THEATRE. UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF MB. CHARLES DICKENS. On Twelfth Night, Tuetday, January 62<>*~ : ^+ F**** -*&&> f &* /# twOe -J-tfA^U^ *. t ~* * ' * / '. /y i /, t Facsimile verses and letter 9- But this STAGE FOLK AND OTHERS 279 would be foreign to the present purpose, which has not been either to produce a biography, or to evoke all the interesting persons known to Mrs. Fields, at home and abroad, but rather to present them and her against her ^~"~ From a letter of Edward Lear's to Fields own intimate and distinctive background. She herself has written, in her "Authors and Friends," of Tennyson and Lady Tennyson, and to the pictures she has drawn of them it would be easily possible to add fresh lines from the unprinted records as it would be, also, to bring forth passages touching upon many another famil- iar figure of Victorian England. The roving lover who justified himself by singing that They were my visits, but thou art my home, stated, in essence, the principle to which these pages have adhered. The frequenters of the house in Charles Street well knew that something of its color and flavor 280 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS was derived from the excursions its hostess made into other scenes. Yet her own color and flavor were not those of the visitor, but of the visited. It is a pity that many who would have been welcome visitors none more than Edward Lear never came. Even as it is, there is ample ground for laying the emphasis of this book upon the panorama of a picturesque social life chiefly as seen from within the hospitable walls of Mr. and Mrs. Fields. When he died in 1881, a long and happy chapter in her long and happy life came to its close. VII SARAH ORNE JEWETT SUCH a statement about Mrs. Fields as that she "was to survive her husband many years and was to flourish as a copious second volume the connection licenses the figure of the work anciently issued/' almost iden- tifies itself, without remark, as proceeding from the same friend, Henry James, whose words have colored a previous chapter of this book. The many years to which he referred were, indeed, nearly thirty-four in number, about a third of a century, or what is commonly counted a generation. For a longer period than that through which she was the wife of James T. Fields, she was thus his widow. Through nearly all of this period the need of her nature for an absorbing affectionate intimacy was met through her friendship with Sarah Orne Jewett. It was with reference to her that Mrs. Fields, in the preface to a collection of Miss Jewett 's letters, published in 1911, two years after her death, wrote of "the power that lies in friendship to sustain the giver as well as the receiver." In the friendship of these two women it would have been impossible to define either one, to the exclusion of the other, as the giver or the receiver. They were certainly both sustained by their relation. Miss Jewett, born in South Berwick, Maine, in 1849, and continuously identified with that place until her death in 1909, first entered the "Atlantic circle" in 282 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS 1869, when she was but twenty years old, and Fields was still editor of the magazine. In that year a story by her, called "Mr. Bruce" and credited in the index of the magazine for contributions then appeared unsigned to "A. C. Eliot," was printed in the "Atlan- tic." Four years later, Consule Howe/Is, "The Shore House," a second story, appeared over her own name, the practiceof printing signatures having mean while been instituted. In May, 1875, the "Atlantic" contained a poem by Miss Jewett, which may be quoted, not so much to remind the readers of those stories of New Eng- land on which her later fame was based, that in her earlier years she was much given to the writing of verse, as to explain in a way the union there is no truer word for it that came later to exist between herself and Mrs. Fields. Thus it read : TOGETHER I wonder if you really send Those dreams of you that come and go ! I like to say, " She thought of me, And I have known it." Is it so ? Though other friends walk by your side, Yet sometimes it must surely be, They wonder where your thoughts have gone, Because I have you here with me. And when the busy day is done And work is ended, voices cease, When every one has said good night, In fading firelight, then in peace ^i m&ffljjjjjjjijjljii^ SARAH ORNE JEWETT SARAH ORNE JEWETT 283 I idly rest : you come to me, Your dear love holds me close to you. If I could see you face to face It would not be more sweet and true ; I do not hear the words you speak, Nor touch your hands, nor see your eyes : Yet, far away the flowers may grow From whence to me the fragrance flies ; And so, across the empty miles Light from my star shines. Is it, dear, Your love has never gone away ? I said farewell and kept you here. It was not strange that the writer of just such a poem should have seemed to Fields, before his death in 1881, the ideal friend to fill the impending gap in the life of his wife. He must have known that, when the time should come for readjusting herself to life without him, she would need something more than random contacts with friends, no matter how rewarding each such relation- ship might be. He must have realized that the intensely personal element in her nature would require an outlet through an intensely personal devotion. If he could have foreseen the relation that grew up between Mrs. Fields and Miss Jewett her junior by about fifteen years almost immediately upon his death, and con- tinued throughout the life of the younger friend, he would surely have felt a great security of satisfaction in what was yet to be. In all her personal manifestations, and in all her work, Miss Jewett embodied a quality of distinction, a quality of the true aristophile, to em- 284 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS ploy a term which has seemed to me before to fit that small company of lovers of the best to which these ladies preeminently belonged, that made them foreordained companions. To Mrs. Fields it meant much to stand in a close relation apart from all considerations of a completely uniting friendship with such an artist as Miss Jewett, to feel that through sympathy and en- couragement she was furthering a true and permanent contribution to American letters. To Miss Jewett, whose life, before this intimacy began, had been led almost entirely in the Maine village of her birth, a village of dignity and high traditions that were her own inheritance, there came an extension of in- terests and stimulating contacts through finding her- self a frequent member of another household than her own, and that a very nucleus of quickening human intercourse. To pursue her work of writing chiefly at South Berwick, to come to Boston, or Manchester, for that freshening of the spirit which the creative writer so greatly needs, and there to find the most sympathetic and devoted of friends, also much occupied herself with the writing of books and with all commerce of vital thoughts what could have afforded a more delight- ful arrangement of life ? Even as early as 1881, the year of Fields's death, Miss Jewett published the fourth of her many books, "Country By-Ways," preceded by "Deephaven" (1877), "Play Days" (1878), and "Old Friends and New" (1879). From 1881 onward her production was constant and abundant. In 1881 also began a period of SARAH ORNE JEWETT 285 remarkable productiveness on the part of Mrs. Fields. In that very year of her husband's death she published both her "James T. Fields: Biographical Notes and Personal Sketches," and a second edition of "Under the Olive," a small volume in which she had brought to- gether in 1880 a number of poems in which the influence of the Greek and English poets is sometimes manifested notably in "Theocritus" to excellent purpose. If Mrs. Fields had been a poet of distinctive power, the fact would long ago have established itself. To make any such claim for her at this late day would be to de- part from the purpose of this book. It was for the most part rather as a friend than as a daughter of the Muses that she turned to verse, the medium of utterance for so many of that nest of singing-birds in which her life was passed. In 1883 came her little volume "How to Help the Poor," representing an interest in the less fortunate which prepared her to become one of the founders of the Associated Charities of Boston, kept her long active and influential in the service of that organization, and made her at the last one of its generous benefactors. In 1895 and 1900, respectively, appeared two more volumes of verse, "The Singing Shepherd and Other Poems," assembling the work of earlier and later years, and "Orpheus, a Masque," each strongly touched, like "Under the Olive," with the Grecian spirit. From "The Singing Shepherd" I cannot resist quoting one of the best things it contains a sonnet, "Flamman- tis Mcenia Mundi," under which, in my own copy of the book, I find the penciled note, written probably 286 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS more than twenty years ago : "Mrs. Fields tells me that this sonnet came to her complete, one may almost say ; standing on her feet she made it, but for one or two small changes, just as it is, in about fifteen minutes." I stood alone in purple space and saw The burning walls of the world, like wings of flame, Circling the sphere ; there was no break nor flaw In those vast airy battlements whence came The spirits who had done with time and fame And all the playthings of earth's little hour ; I saw them each, I knew them for the same, Mothers and brothers and the sons of power. Yet were they changed ; the flaming walls had burned Their perishable selves, and there remained Only the pure white vision of the soul, The mortal part consumed, and swift returned Ashes to ashes ; while unscathed, unstained, The immortal passed beyond the earth's control. For the rest, her writings may be said to have grown out of the life which the pages of her diary have pic- tured. The successive volumes were these: "Whittier: Notes of his Life and of his Friendship*' (New York, 1893); "A Shelf of Old Books" (New York, 1894); "Letters of Celia Thaxter" (edited with Miss Rose Lamb, Boston, 1895) ; "Authors and Friends" (Boston, 1896); "Life and Letters of Harriet Beecher Stowe" (Boston, 1897) ; "Nathaniel Hawthorne" (in the "Bea- con Biographies," Boston, 1899); "Charles Dudley Warner" (New York, 1909); and, after the death of the friend whose name appears above this chapter, "Letters of Sarah Orne Jewett" (Boston, 1911). This catalogue of publications is in itself a dry bit of SARAH ORNE JEWETT 287 reading, and to add the titles of all the books produced by Miss Jewett after 1881 would not enliven the record. But the lists, explicit and implicit, will serve at least to suggest the range and nature of the activities of An autograph copy of Mrs. Fields'* "F/ammantis Moenia Mundi " before its final revision mind and spirit in which the two friends shared for many years. It is no wonder that Mrs. Fields, who abandoned the regular maintenance of her diary in the face of her husband's failing health, resumed it in later years only under the special provocations of travel. In its place she took up the practice of writing daily missives sometimes letters, more often the merest 288 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS notes to Miss Jewett whenever they were separated. These innumerable little messages of affection con- tained frequent references to persons and passing events, but rather as memoranda for talk when the two friends should meet than as records at all resembling the ear- lier journals. Such local friends as Mrs. Pratt and Mrs. Bell, in whom the spirit and wit of their father, Ru- fus Choate, shone on for later generations ; Mrs. Whit- man, mistress of the arts of color and of friendship; Miss Guiney, figuring always as "the Linnet," even as Mrs. Thaxter was "the Sandpiper" ; Dr. Holmes, Phil- lips Brooks, "dear Whittier" these and scores of others, young and old, known and unknown to fame, people the scene which the little notes recall. There are, besides, such visitors from abroad as Matthew Ar- nold and his wife, Mrs. Humphry Ward and her daugh- ter, M. and Mme. Brunetiere, and Mme. Blanc ("Th. Bentzon"), whose article, "Condition de la Femme aux Etats-Unis," in the "Revue des Deux Mondes" for September, 1894, could not have been written but for the knowledge of Boston acquired through a long visit to the house in Charles Street. Of the salon of her hostess she wrote: "Je voudrais essayer de pein- dre celui qui se rapproche le plus, par beaucoup de cotes, les salons de France de la meilleure epoque, le salon de Mrs. J. T. Fields." She goes on to paint it, and from the picture at least one fragment apropos of the portraits in the house should be rescued, if only for the piquancy conferred by Mme. Blanc's na- tive tongue upon a bit of anecdote : " Emerson realise SARAH ORNE JEWETT 289 bien, en physique, 1'idee d'immaterialite que je me fai- sais de lui. Mrs. Fields me conte une jolie anecdote : vers la fin de sa vie, il fut prit d'un singulier acces de curiosite ; il voulut savoir une fois ce que c'etait le whis- ky et entra dans un bar pour s'en servir : Vous vou- lez un verre d'eau, Mr. Emerson ? dit le gargon, sans lui donner le temps d'exprimer sa criminelle envie. Et le philosophe but son verre d'eau, . . . et il mourut sans connaitre le gout du whisky." But if the notes of Mrs. Fields to Miss Jewett, and Miss Jewett's own letters to her friend in Boston, do not provide any counterpart to the diaries which make up the greater portion of this book, there are, in the journals kept by Mrs. Fields on special occasions of travel, records of experiences shared by the two friends which should be given here. When they went to Europe together, as early as 1882, the two travellers were happily characterized by Whit- tier in a sonnet, "Godspeed," as her in whom All graces and sweet charities unite The old Greek beauty set in holier light ; And her for whom New England's byways bloom, Who walks among us welcome as the Spring, Calling up blossoms where her light feet stray. No effort or adventure seemed to daunt the compan- ions in their journey ings. There was an indomitable quality in Mrs. Fields which Miss Jewett used to as- cribe to her "May blood," with its strain of aboli- tionism, and it showed itself when she accepted with 2 9 o MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS enthusiasm, and successfully urged Miss Jewett to ac- cept, an invitation to make a two months' winter cruise in West Indian waters, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Aldrich, on the yacht Hermione of their friend, Henry L. Pierce. The diary of Mrs. Fields records discomforts and pleasures with an equal hand, and gives lively glimpses of island and ocean scenes. At Santo Do- mingo, for example, the President of the Republic of Haiti dined on the Hermione on St. Valentine's Day, 1896, and talked in a manner to which the impending liberation of Cuba from the Spanish yoke may now be seen to have added some significance. Anything more interesting than his conversation [wrote Mrs. Fields] would be impossible to find. He ended just before we left the table by speaking of Cuba. He is inclined to believe that the day of Spain is over. The people are already conquerors in the interior and are approaching Havana. Spain will soon be compelled to retire to her coast defenses and she is sure to be driven thence in two years or sooner. Of course, if the Cubans are recognized by the great powers they will triumph all the sooner. "Do these island republics take the part of Cuba?" someone asked. "I will tell you a little tale of a camel," he said, "if you will allow me a camel greatly overladen who lamented his sad fate. 'I am bent to the earth/ he said; 'everything is heaped upon me and I feel as if I could never rise again under such a load.' Upon his SARAH ORNE JEWETT 291 pack was seated a flea, who heard the lament of the camel. Immediately the flea jumped to the ground. ' See ! ' he said ; 'now rise, I have relieved you of my own weight.' 'Thank you, Mr. Elephant/ said the camel, as he glanced at the flea hopping away. The recognition of these islands would help Cuba about as much,*' he added laughingly. But the President of Haiti, concerning whom much more might be quoted, is less a part of the present picture than Thomas Bailey Aldrich, of whom Mrs. Fields wrote, February 21 : T. B. A.'s wit and pleasant company never fail he is so natural, finding fault at times, without being a fault-finder, and being crusty like another human crea- ture when out of sorts but on the whole a most re- freshing companion, coming up from below every morn- ing with a shining countenance, his hair curling like a boy's, and ready for a new day. He said yesterday that he should like to live 450 years "shouldn't you?" "No," I said; "I am on tip-toe for the flight." "Ah," he said with a visible shudder, "we know nothing about it ! Oddly enough, I have strange impressions of hav- ing lived before once in London especially not at St. Paul's, or Pall Mall, or in any of the great places where I might have been deceived by previous imagina- tions, not at all, but among some old streets where I had never been before and where I had no associa- tions." He would have gone on in this vein and would 292 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS have drawn me into giving some reasons for my faith which would have been none to him, but fortunately we were interrupted. He is full of quips and cranks in talk is a worshipper of the English language and a good student of Murray's Grammar, in which he faith- fully believes. His own training in it he values as much as anything which ever came to him. He picks up the unfortunates, of which I am chief, who say "people" meaning "persons," who say "at length" for "at last," and who use foolish redundancies, but I cannot seem to record his fun. He began to joke Bridget early in the voyage about the necessity of being tattooed when she arrived at the Windward Islands, like the rest of the crew ! Fancying that he saw a sort of half idea that he was in earnest, he kept it up and told her that the butter- mark of Ponkapog should be the device ! The matter had nearly blown over when yesterday he wanted her suddenly and called, "Bridget," at the gangway rather sharply. "Here, sir," said the dear creature running quickly to mount the stairs. "The tattoo-man is here," said T. B. With all seriousness Bridget paused a mo- ment, wavered, looked again, and then came on laugh- ing to do what he really wanted. "That man will be the death of me so he will," said B. as she went away on her errand. She is his slave; gets his clothes and waits upon him every moment ; but his fun and sweet- ness with her "disemtuit de service " and more, charges it with pleasantness. T. B. A. is a most careful reader and a true reporter upon the few good books of which he is cognizant. He SARAH ORNE JEWETT 293 has read Froude's history twice through, and Queen Mary's reign three times. He has read a vast number of novels, hundreds and hundreds, French and Eng- lish, but his knowledge of French seems to stop there. He also once knew Spanish, but that seems to have dropped he never, I think, could speak much of any language save his own. Being a master there is so much more than the rest of us achieve that we feel he has won his laurels. On a later journey, in 1898, Mrs. Fields and Miss Jewett, visiting England and France in company with Miss Jewett's sister and nephew, were on more famil- iar and more suitable ground if indeed that word can be used even figuratively for the unstable deck of a yacht. In London there were many old and new friends to be seen. In Paris Mme. Blanc opened for the travellers the doors of many a salon not commonly accessible to visiting Americans. But from all the abundant chronicle of these experiences, it will be enough to make two selections. The first describes a visit to the Provencal poet, Mistral, with his "Boufflo Beel" dog and hat; the second, a glimpse of Henry James at Rye. It was in May of 1898, that Mrs. Fields and Miss Jewett, finding Paris cold and rainy, determined to strike for sunshine, and the South. A little journey into Provence, and a visit to Mistral, followed this de- cision. The following notes record the visit. 294 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS A perfect time and perfect weather in which to see the country of Provence. Fields of great white poppies and other flowers planted for seed in this district made the way beautiful on either hand. Olive trees with rows of black cypress and old tiled-roofed farmhouses, and the mountains always on the horizon, filled the landscape. The first considerable house we reached was the home of the poet. A pretty garden which attracted our atten- tion with a rare eglantine called La Reine Joanne, and other charming things hanging over the wall made us suspicious of the poet's vicinity. Turning the corner of this garden and driving up a short road, we found the courtyard and door on the inner side as it were. We heard a barking dog. "Take care/' said the driver, "there is a dangerous dog inside." We waited until Mistral himself came to meet us from the garden ; he was much amused. There was an old dog tied, half asleep, on a bench and a young one by his side. He said laughing, "These are all, and they could not be less dangerous. The elder" (he let them loose while he spoke and they played about us), "the elder I call Bouffe, from Boufflo Beel" (Mistral does not speak any English, nor does his wife) "and the reason is be- cause I happened to be in the neighborhood of Paris once just after Buffalo Bill had passed on toward Calais with his troupe. I saw a little dog, unlike the dogs of our country, who seemed to be lost, but the moment he saw me, he thought I was 'Boufflo Beel* and adopted me for his master. You see I look like him," he said, putting his wide felt hat a little more on one side ! Yes, MISTRAL, MASTER OF "BOUFFLO BEEL' SARAH ORNE JEWETT 295 we did think so. "Well, the little dog has been with us ever since. He possesses the most wonderful intelli- gence and understands every word we say. One day I said to him, 'What a pity such a nice dog as you should have no children !' A few days later the servant said to me, 'Bouffe has been away nearly two days, but he has now come back bringing his wife.' 'Ah!' I said, 'take good care of them both/ In due time this other little dog, his son, arrived in the world,"and shortly after Bouffe carried his wife away again, but kept the little dog. He is a wonderful fellow, to be sure." We went into the house and sat down to talk awhile about poetry and books. There was a large book-case full of French and Provencal literature here, but it was rather the parlor and everyday sitting-room than his work-room. Unhappily, they have no children. Evi- dently they are exceedingly happy together and natur- ally do not miss what they have never had. She opened the drawing-room for us, which is the room of state. It is full of interesting things connected with Provence and their own life, but perfectly simple, in actoord with the country-like fashion of their existence. There is a noble bas-relief of the head of Mistral, the drum or "tambour" of the Felibre, or for the Farandole, and, without overloading, plenty of good things photo- graphs, one or two pictures, not many, for the house is not that of a rich man, plaster casts, and one or two busts, perhaps the presents of artists, illustrations of "Mireio," and things associated with their individual lives or the life of Provence. Presently Mistral gave me 296 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS his arm and we went across the hall. Standing in the place of honor opposite the front door and in the large corner made by the staircase, is a fine copy of the bust of Lamartine, crowned with an olive wreath. We paused a moment here while Mistral spoke of Lamartine, and always with the sincere reverence which he has ex- pressed in the poem entitled " Elegie sur la mort de Lamartine" . . . The dining-room was still more Provencal, if possible, than the rooms we had visited. The walls were white, which, with the closed green blinds, must give a pleas- ant light when the days are hot, yet bright even on grey days. Specimens of the pottery of the country hang around, decorated with soft colors. The old carved bread-mixing-and-holding affair, which belonged in every well-to-do house of the old time, was there, and one or two other old pieces of furniture, while the chairs, sofa, and table were of quaint shape, painted green with some decorations. The details are all petty enough, but they proved how sincerely Mistral and his wife love their country and their surroundings and endeavor to ennoble them and make the most of them. After sitting at table and en- joying their hospitality, we went out again into the gar- den where Madame Mistral gathered "Nerto" (myrtle) for us, beside roses and other more beautiful but more formidable things. "Nerto "is the title of one of his last books (I hear) and the wife doubtless believed that we should cherish a branch of her myrtle especially in mem- ory of the visit. She was quite right, but these things SARAH ORNE JEWETT 297 which are "to last" how frail they are; the things that remain are those which are written on the heart. We cannot forget these two picturesque beings stand- ing in their garden, filling our hands with flowers and bidding us farewell. As we drove away into the sunny plain once more, we found it speaking to us with a voice of human kindness echoing from that poetic and friendly home. In a more personal vein, the address to Lamartine by Mistral expresses better his mood of the afternoon when we stood together looking at the bust and recalling each our personal remembrance of the man. An excursion from London, on September 12, de- voted to a day with Henry James, gave Mrs. Fields a memorable glimpse of the son of an old friend, and an honest pleasure in learning at first hand of his apprecia- tion of Miss Jewett's writings. Monday, September 13, 1898. We left London about II o'clock for Rye, to pass the day with Mr. Henry James. He was waiting for us at the station with a carriage, and in five minutes we found ourselves at the top of a silent little winding street, at a green door with a brass knocker, wearing the air of impene- trable respectability which is so well known in England. Another instant and an old servant, Smith (who with his wife has been in Mr. James's service for 20 years), opened the door and helped us from the car- riage. It was a prettv interior large enough for ele- 298 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS gance, and simple enough to suit the severe taste of a scholar and private gentleman. Mr. James was intent on the largest hospitality. We were asked upstairs over a staircase with a pretty balustrade and plain green drugget on the steps ; every- thing was of the severest plainness, but in the best taste, "not at all austere," as he himself wrote us. We soon went down again after leaving our hats, to find a young gentleman, Mr. McAlpine, who is Mr. James's secretary, with him, awaiting us. This young man is just the person to help Mr. James. He has a bump of reverence and appreciates his position and opportunity. We sat in the parlor opening on a pretty garden for some time, until Mr. James said he could not conceive why luncheon was not ready and he must go and inquire, which he did in a very responsible man- ner, and soon after Smith appeared to announce the feast. Again a pretty room and table. We enjoyed our talk together sincerely at luncheon and afterward strolled into the garden. The dominating note was dear Mr. James's pleasure in having a home of his own to which he might ask us. From the garden, of course, we could see the pretty old house still more satisfac- torily. An old brick wall concealed by vines and laurels surrounds the whole irregular domain ; a door from the garden leads into a paved courtyard which seemed to give Mr. James peculiar satisfaction; re- turning to the garden, and on the other side, at an angle with the house, is a building which he laughingly called the temple of the Muse. This is his own place par excel- LAMB HOUSE. RYE. SUSSEX. Reduced facsimile of postscript of a letter from Henry James, expressing the intention^ which he could not fulfill, to provide an Introduction to the "Letters of Sarah Orne Jewett" 300 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS lence. A good writing-table and one for his secretary, a typewriter, books, and a sketch by Du Mauri er, with a few other pictures (rather mementoes than works of art), excellent windows with clear light, such is the temple ! Evidently an admirable spot for his work. After we returned to the oarlor Mr. James took oc- casion to tell Sarah how deeolv and sincerely he appre- ciated her work; how he re-reads it with increasing ad- miration. "It is foolish to ask, I know," he said, "but were you in just such a place as vou describe in the 'Pointed Firs'?" "No," she said, "not precisely; the book was chiefly written before I visited the locality itself." "And such an island?" he continued. "Not exactly," she said again. "Ah! I thought so," he said musingly; and the language "It is so absolutely true not a word overdone such elegance and exactness. " "And Mrs. Dennet how admirable she is," he said again, not waiting for a reply. I need not say they were very much at home together after this. Meanwhile the carriage came again to the door, for he had made a plan to take us on a drive to Winchel- sea, a second of the Cinq Fortes, Rye itself also being one. The sea has retreated from both these places, leaving about two miles of the Romney Marsh b etween them and the shore. Nothing could be more like some- thing born of the imagination than the old city of Win- chelsea. . . . Just outside the old gate looking towards Rye and the sea from a lonely height is the cottage where Ellen Terry has found a summer resting-place and retirement. It is a true home for an artist nothing SARAH ORNE JEWETT 301 could be lovelier. Unhappily she was not there, but we were happy to see the place which she described to us with so great satisfaction. From Winchelsea Mr. James drove us to the station, where we took the train for Hastings. He had brought his small dog, an aged black and tan terrier, with him for a holiday. He put on the muzzle, which all dogs just now must wear, and took it off a great many times until, having left it once when he went to buy the tick- ets and recovered it, he again lost it and it could not be found ; so as soon as he reached Hastings, he took a car- riage again to drive us along the esplanade, but the first thing was to buy a new muzzle. This esplanade is three miles long, but we began to feel like tea, so having looked upon the sea sufficiently from this decidedly un- romantic point of view, we went into a small shop and enjoyed more talk under new conditions. "How many cakes have you eaten?" "Ten," gravely replied Mr. James at which we all laughed. "Oh, I know," said the girl with a wise look at the desk. "How do you sup- pose they know?" said Mi. James musingly as he turned away. "They always do!" And so on again presently to the train at Hastings, where Mr. Me Al- pine appeared at the right instant. Mr. James's train for Rye left a few moments before ours for London. He took a most friendly farewell and having left us to Mr. McA. ran for his own carriage. In another five minutes we too were away, bearing our delightful memories of this meeting. 302 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS Not because they record momentous events and en- counters, but merely as little pictures of the life which Mrs. Fields and Miss Jewett led together, these passages are brought to light. They are the last to be presented here. For more than another decade beyond the summer of 1898, Miss Jewett, sorely invalided through the final years as the result of a carriage accident, remained the central personal fact in Mrs. Fields's interest and affec- tions. Soon after her death, in June, 1909, Mrs. Fields wrote about her to a common friend: "Of my dear Sarah I believe one of her noblest qualities was her great generosity. Others could only guess at this, but I was allowed to know it. Not that she made gifts, but a wide sympathy was hers for every disappointed or incompetent fellow creature. It was a most distinguish- ing characteristic ! Governor Andrew spoke of Judge B once as 'A friend to every man who did not need a friend* ! Sarah's quick sympathy knew a friend was in need before she knew it herself; she was the spirit of beneficence, and her quick delicate wit was such a joy in daily companionship !" Of this daily companionship an anonymous contrib- utor to the "Atlantic Monthly" for August, 1909, had been a fortunate witness. I need not ask his permission to repeat a portion of what he then wrote : "There is but one familiar portrait of Miss Jewett. It has been so often reprinted that many who have seen it, even without seeing her, must think of her as im- mune from change, blessed with perpetual youth, with a gracious, sympathetic femininity, with an air of SARAH ORNE JEWETT 303 breeding and distinction quite independent of shifting fashions. "This portrait is intimately symbolic of her work. It typifies with a rare faithfulness the quality of all the products of her pen. In them one found, and finds, the same abiding elements of beauty, sympathy, and dis- tinction. The element of sympathy perhaps the greatest of these found its expression in a humor that provoked less of outward laughter than of smiles within, and in a pathos the very counterpart of this delicate quality. The beauty and the distinction may be less capable of brief characterization, but they pervaded her art. . . . "This work of hers, in dealing with the New England life she knew and loved, was essentially American, as purely indigenous as the pointed firs of her own coun- tryside. The art with which she wrought her native themes was limited, on the contrary, by no local bound- aries. At its best it had the absolute quality of the highest art in every quarter of the globe. And the spirit in which she approached her task was as broad in its scope and sympathy as her art in its form. It was pre- cisely this union of what was at once so clearly Ameri- can and so clearly universal that distinguished her stories, in the eyes of both editor and reader, as the best so often in any magazine that contained them. "Her constant demand upon herself was for the best. There were no compromises with mediocrity, either in her tastes or in her achievement s. It was the best as- pect of New England character and tradition on which 304 MEMORIES OF A HOSTESS her vision steadily dwelt. She was satisfied with noth- ing short of the best in her interpretation of New Eng- land life. The form of creative writing in which she won her highest successes the short story is the form in which Americans have made their most dis- tinctive contributions to English literature; and her place with the few best of these writers appears to be secure. "If the familiar portrait typifies her work, it is equally true to the person herself. The quick, responsive spirit of youth, with all its sincerity, all its enjoyment in friendship or whatever else the day might hold, was an immutable possession. So were all the other qualities for which the features spoke. Through the recent years of physical disability, due in the first instance to an acci- dent so gratuitous that it seemed to her friends unendur- able, there was a noble patience, a sweet endurance, that could have sprung only from an heroic strain of character." For nearly six years Mrs. Fields survived Miss Jew- ett, bereaved as by the loss of half her personal world, yet indomitable of spirit and energy, so long as her phys- ical forces would permit any of the old accustomed exer- cises of hospitality and friendship. The selection and publication of Miss Jewett's letters was a labor of love which continued the sense of companionship for the first two of the remaining years. Through the four others there was a failing of bodily strength, though not at all of mental and spiritual eagerness ; and in her out- ward mien through all the later years, there was that SARAH ORNE JEWETT 305 which must have recalled to many the ancient couplet : No Spring, nor summer's beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnal face. Towards the end there was a brief return to the keep- ing of a sporadic diary. Its final words, written Janu- ary 25, 1913, were these: "The days go on cheerfully. I have just read Mark Twain's life, the life of a man who had greatness in him. I am now reading his 'Joan of Arc/ I hope to wait as cheerfully as he did for the trumpet call and as usefully, but I am ready." When Mrs. Fields died and the Charles Street door was finally closed, at the beginning of 1915, the world had entered upon its first entire year of a new era. It is an era as sharply separated from that of her intimate contemporaries, the American Victorians, as any new from any old order. The figures of every old order take their places by degrees as "museum pieces," objects of curious and sometimes condescending study. But let us not be too sure that in parting with the past we have let it keep only that which can best be spared. We would not wish them back, those Victorians of ours. They were the product of their own day, and would be hardly at ease poor things in our twentieth-century Zion. Even some of us who inhabit it gain a sense of rest in r centering their quiet, decorous dwelling-places. As we emerge again from one of them, may it be with a re- newed allegiance to those lasting " things that are more excellent," which belong to every generation of civilized men and women. INDEX PAGE numbers set in bold-faced type indicate, generally speaking, the more important references to the persons concerned. As a com- plete list of the pages on which Mr. or Mrs. Fields, or both, are mentioned would include substantially the whole book, only a few of the more significant references to them have been selected for inclusion under their names. ADAMS, ANNIE, marries J. T. F., n. And see Fields, Annie. Adams, Charles F., Jr., 278. Adams, Lizzie, 20. Adams, Zabdiel B., n. Agassiz, Alexander, 256, 257, 258. Agassiz, Elizabeth C., 159. Agassiz, Louis, 48, 93, 105, 141. Alcott, A. Bronson, 63, 72-77, 81, 82, 95- Alcott, Mrs. A. Bronson, 63. Alcott, Louisa M., 73. Alden, Henry M., 57, 89. Aldrich, Lilian (Woodman), 126, 203, 229, 290. Aldrich, Thomas B., n, 116, 126 and ., 127, 197/., 226-229, 290, 291- 293. Andrew, John A., u, 36 n., 302. Andrew, Mrs. John A., 28, 213, 214. Appleton, Thomas Gold, 115, 116, 126, 152, 154, 209, 211, 212, 213, 216, 246, 253. Aristotle, 133. Arnold, Matthew, 288. Astor, John Jacob, 76, 77. Atlantic Monthly ', 6, 13, 14, 107, in, 191 ., 209, 233, 252, 281, 282, 302. BACON, FRANCIS, Lord, 112. Baker, Sir Samuel, 149. Barbauld, Anna L. A., 101. Barker, Fordyce, 151, 185. Barlow, Francis C., 61. Barrett, Lawrence, 240. Bartol, Cyrus A., 114, 215, 239. Beal, James H., 143. Beal, Louisa (Adams), 42, 143. Beal, Thomas, 199. Beecher, Henry Ward, 89, 224, 263, 267-269, 270. Bell, Helen (Choate), 98, 143, 288. Bellows, Henry W., 199. Bentzon, Th. See Blanc, Marie T. Bigelow, George T., 36. Bigelow, Mr. and Mrs., 143, 144. Blagden, Isa, 260. Blake, Harrison G. O., 89, 90. Blanc, Marie Therese, 288, 289, 293. Blessington, Countess of, 274. Blumenbach, Johann F., 128, 129. Boccaccio, Giovanni, 58. Booth, Edwin, 28, 198-203, 210, 240-241. Booth, J. Wilkes, 28, 198, 199. Booth, Junius Brutus, 196. Booth, Mary (Mrs. Edwin), 241. Booth, Mary A. (Mrs. J. B.), 198. Boswell, James, 60. Boutwell, George S., 89. Bradford, George, 81, 82, 90. Bright, John, 177. Bronte, Charlotte, 131, 266. Brooks, Phillips, 36 ., 94, 288. Brown, John, Pet Marjorie y 59. Browne, Charles F., 21. Brownell, Henry Howard, 29. Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 270. Browning, Robert, 43, 142, 260, 269. Brunetiere, Ferdinand, 288. Bryant, William Cullen, 239, 257. "Buffalo Bill." See Cody, W. F. Bugbee, James M., 126. Bull, Ole, 225. 3 o8 INDEX Burr, Aaron, 270, 271. Butler, Benjamin F., 95. CABOT, MRS., 236. Calderon de la Barca, Pedro, no. Carleton, G. W., 233. Carlyle, Jane Welsh, 75, 142, 220. Carlyle, Thomas, 73, 75, 79, 89, 141, 142, 165, 167, 190, 191, 220. Channing, W. Ellery, 81, 98, 114. Cheney, Arthur, 216. Cheney, Ednah D., 114. Child, Lydia M., 265, 266. Childs, George W., 64. Choate, Rufus, 288. Cicero, 45. Clapp, Henry, 185. Clarke, James Freeman, 72, 114. Clarke, Sara, 205. Clemens, Samuel L., 232, 233, 244- 257, 305. Clemens, Mrs. S. L., 245 ff. Cobden, Richard, 177. Cody, William F., 294. Colchester (medium), 168, 169, 170. Collins, Charles, 168. Collins, Mrs. Charles (daughter of Dickens), 190. Collins, W.Wilkie, 145, 1 89. Collyer, Robert, 215. Con way, Judge, 219. Cooke, George W., 120. Crabbe, George, 186. Crawford, Thomas, 264. Crawford, Mrs. Thomas, 264, 265. Cubas, Isabella, 22, 23. Curtis, George William, 14, 33, 184, 188. Curtis, Mrs. G. W., 14. Gushing, Caleb, 266, 267. Cushman, Charlotte, 123, 219-222. DANA, CHARLOTTE, 161. Dana, Richard H., Jr., 93, 95, 116, 144, 250, 278. Dana, Mrs. R. H., Jr., 92, 93. Dana, Sallie, 161. Daniel, George, 95. Dante, Alighieri, 258. Davidson, Edith, 99. Davis, George T., 19, 20. Dennet, of the Nation, 127. De Normandie, James, 8l. Dewey, Dr., 219. Dickens, Bessy, 194. Dickens, Catherine (Hogarth), 160. Dickens, Charles, in America, 138- 188; his readings, 140, 144, 145, 152, 157, i?i, 172, 181, 182; letters of, to J. T. F., 150, 191; 12, 32,33, 1 1 8, 119, 120, 135-195, 209, 210, 211, 212, 223, 2 4 0. Dickens, Charles, Jr., 194. Dickens, John, 175. Dickens, Mary: quoted, 193; 140, 164, 169, 194. Dickinson, Lowes, 232. Dodge, Mary Abigail, 144, 220, 221. Dolby, George, 136, 138, 139, 140, H3, J 44> H9, 150, 161, 162, 165, 166, 171, 173, 178, 180, 185, 189, 190. Donne, Father, 102. Donne, John, 95. Dorr, Charles, 149, 209. Dorr, Mrs. Charles, 35, 149, 150, 209, 215. Dryden, John, 109. Dufferin, Earl of, 163. Dumas, Alex., 211. Dumas, Alex.,//j., 211. Du Maurier, George, 300. Dunn, Rev. Mr., 122. ECCE HOMO, 167. Eliot, Charles W., 41. Eliotson, Dr., 182, 183. Ellsler, Fanny, 24. Emerson, Edith, 89, 91. And see Forbes, Edith (Emerson). Emerson, Edward W., 94, 103, 104. Emerson, Ellen, 88, 94, 96, 97, 99, 100, 103, 104. Emerson, Lilian (Jackson), letter of, to Mrs. F., 88; 61, 62, 89, 94,^95, 99, 101, 203. Emerson, Ralph Waldo, letter of, to J.T. F.,87; 14, I5., 24,61,62, 67, 73, 74, 79, 83, 84, 86-105, 130, 131, 141, 158, 161, 165, 203, 206, 238, 239, 289. Emerson, W. R., 219. England, Hawthorne on, 59, 60. Everett, Edward, 116, 270, 271. INDEX 309 Everett, William, 270. Every Saturday, 197. FALSTAFF, SIR JOHN, 1 10. Fechter, Charles, 139, 146, 148, 149, 159, 179, 190, 191, 209 /. Field, John W., 124. Field, Kate, 152, 259, 260, 261. Fielding, Henry, Tom Jones, no, in. Fields, Annie, disposition of her papers, 3; her journals, 4, 12; H. James quoted on, 5 ; marriage, 1 1 ; her neighbors, 1 1 ; and Leigh Hunt, 15, 16; letter of Holmes to, on her memorial volume, 50, 51 ; her books, 53; H. James, Sr., quoted on, 85; "Thunderbolt Hill," 1 01 ; her character as re- vealed in her diary, 132-134; her championship of Dickens, 156, 157; the variety of her friend- ships, 196 ff. ; her ode for the in- stallation of the Music Hall organ, 219, 220, 221 ; with J. T. F., visits Mark Twain at Hartford, 246 ff.; and the cause of equal rights for women, 275, 278 ; her skill in digesting reports of conver- sations, 279, 280; her intimate friendship with Miss Jewett, 281 ff.; her poetry, 285, 286; list of her published prose works, 286; friends of her later years, 288; travelling with Miss Jewett,289jf.; and the President of Haiti, 290, 291; visits Mistral, 293-297; visits H. James, Jr., at Rye, 297- 301 ; quoted, on Miss Jewett, 302 ; her last years, 304, 305 ; the last words in her diary, 305; her death, 305. James T. Fields: Biographical Notes, 4, 13, 16, 50; Authors and Friends, 4, 31, 86, 87, 105, 129, 134, 279; A Shelf of Old Books, 12 n . ; Hawthorne, 54. Fields, Eliza J.(Willard), ii. FIELDS, JAMES T., early days in Boston, 10, n, 196; marries Annie Adams, 1 1 ; their home on Charles St., n, 12, 137, 138, 218, 219; editor of the Atlantic, 14, 58, 67, 87, I07,"m,ll 9 , 191 ., 233, 282; as raconteur, 21 ; Holmes quoted on his position in the literary world, 34 ; retires from business, 40; H. James, Sr., quoted on, 85 ; his love of the theatre and stage folk, 196, 197; his death, 280; fosters Mrs. F.'s friendship with Miss Jewett, 283. Yesterdays with Authors, 4, 54, 55, 62, 137, 176 n., 190. Fields, Osgood & Co., 10. Fiske, John, 48. Forbes, Edith (Emerson), 91. Forbes, William H., 91. Forrest, Edwin, 207, 218. Forrest, Mrs. Edwin, 218. Forster, John, 154, 160, 163, 171, 213. Foster, Charlotte, 259. Frothingham, Octavius B., 274. Froude, James A., 68, 293. Fuller, Margaret, 24, 239. Fulton, J. D., 122. Furness, William H., 101 .,IO2 , 103. GARRETT (impressario), 214. Gaskell, Elizabeth C. S., 131. Godwin, Mrs. William, 16. Goethe, Johann W. von, Wilhelm Meister, 132, 133. Gorges, Sir F., 74. Gounod, Charles, 44. Grant, Julia Dent, 159. Grant, Ulysses S., 1 59, 262. Grau, Maurice, 222. Greene, George W., 19, 20, 44, 45, 47, 126, 141, 256, 258, 260. Gregory, Lady, 218. Guiney, Louise Imogen, 288. HAITI, President of, 290, 291. Hale, Edward E., 93. Hale, John P., 261. Hallam, Henry, 89. Hamilton, Gail. See Dodge, Mary Abigail. Hammersley, Mr., 247. Harper's Weekly, 14. Harris, William T., 81. Harte, F. Bret, 117, 233-243. Harte, Mrs. F. B., 239, 240. 3 io INDEX Harvard College, Commemoration Day at, 36 n. Hawthorne, Julian, 15, 144. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, death of, 27, 28, 67 ; letters of, to J. T. F., 54> 55> 56; his last letter, 65-67; 13, 14, 15 and ., 18, 19, 30, 32, 33,54-72,97,105, 127,236. Hawthorne, Sophia (Peabody), let- ter to Mrs. F. on Hawthorne, 70- 72; 61, 65, 66, 67, 68, 91, 144, 246. Hawthorne, Una, 15, 97, 221. Hawthorne, E. M., sister of Nathan- iel, 69. Hayes, Isaac I., 33, 34. Herbert, George, 95. Herrick, Robert, 95. Higginson, Thomas W., 1 14. Hill, Thomas, 92. Hillard, George S., 17, 18, 19, 143. Hoar, Ebenezer R., 37, 90, 91, 141. Hogarth, Georgina, quoted, 193, 194; 140, 155, 165, 195. Holmes, Amelia (Jackson), 30, 34, 39,40,41, 51, 153,203, 213, 214, 221. Holmes, Oliver Wendell, his rela- tions with the Fieldses, generally, 17-52; letters of, to J. T. F., 17, 49, and to Mrs. F., 50; n, 13,54, 90, 94, 96, no, iiiw., 115, 116, 117, 1 1 8, 135, 141, 142, 203, 205, 206, 207, 208, 221, 256, 257, 273, 288. Holmes, Oliver Wendell, Jr., 21, 31. Home (medium), 163, 168. Horace, 238. Howe, Julia Ward, 9,10, 61, 90, 114 and n., 221. Howe, Laura (Mrs. Richards), 150. Howe, Samuel G., 219, 273. Howells, William D., 38, 116, 166. Howes, Miss, 236. Howison, George H., 81. Hunt, Henry, 48. Hunt, Leigh, 15, 1 6, 58, 122. Hunt, T. Sterry, 199. Hunt, William M., 96, 97-99, 230, 232. Hunt, Mrs. W. M., 96, 98, 222, 230. Hyacinthe, Pere, 44, INGE LOW, JEAN, 142. [ACKSON, CHARLES T., 94 and n. 'ames, Alice, 77, 8 1, 83. ames, George Abbot, 42. ames, Henry, Sr., letter of, to J. T. F., 82, and to Mrs. F., 83, 85; 72-85. James, Mrs. Henry, 75, 77, 81. James, Henry, Jr., quoted, 6, 7, 137, 281; letter of, to author, 8, 9; 119, 120, 297-301. Jan (Booth's servant), 200, 202. Jefferson, Joseph, 203-208, 247. Jewett, Sarah Orne, her intimate relations with Mrs. F., 281^,302- 304; her early days, 281, 282; her literary work, 282-284; cor- respondence with Mrs. F., 288, 289 ; H. James on her work, 300 ; her death, 302 ; 1 2, 50. Johnson, Andrew, impeachment of, 159; 261, 262, 263. Johnson, Samuel, 60. Jonson, Ben, 96. Julius Caesar, 45. KEATS, JOHN, 43, 68, 206, 207. Kellogg, Elijah, 271, 272. Kemble, Charles, 196. Kemble, Frances Anne, 196, 222, 223, 224. Kennard, Mr., 267, 268. King, Preston, 262, 263. Kirkup, Seymour S., 258. Knowlton, Helen M., 232. LAMARTINE, ALPHONSE DE, 296, 297. Lamb, Charles, 270. Landor, Walter Savage, 259-261. Langdon,Mr., Mark Twain's father- in-law, 245. Langdon, Mrs., 246. Larcom, Lucy, 70. Lathrop, George P., 97. Lathrop,Rose (Hawthorne), quoted, 67.; 97, 144. Lear, Edward, 280. Leclercq, Carlotta, 216. Lemaitre, Frederick, 178, 179, 180, 211. INDEX 31* Lincoln, Abraham, assassination of, 28,198; 55,56,77,262,263. Livermore, Mary A., 275-278. Locke, David R., 33. Longfellow, Alice, 42, 96, 224. Longfellow, Charles, 128, 216. Longfellow, Edith, 42, 213, 214. Longfellow, Mrs. Ernest W., 42. Longfellow, Henry W., 13, 19, 33, 34, 35, 39, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 60 and ., 90, 96, 97, 98, 99, 109, 115, 116, 117, 119, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 141, 144, 152, 153, 159, 160, 161, 172, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 211, 212 and ., 213, 214, 215, 216, 222, 223, 224, 243, 256, 257, 258, 273. Longfellow, Mrs. H. W., 55, 223. Longfellow, Samuel, 42, 2i2. Loring, Charles G., 36 n. Lowell, Frances (Dunbar), 123, 124. Lowell, James Russell, letters of, to J. T. F., 107, 108, 112, 113, 120, 141 w.; 5, 13, 33,34, 35, 36n., 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 104, 105, 106, 107 ff., 116, 117, 123, 124, 126, 127, 149, 159, 163, 164, 1 66, 243, 273. Lowell, Mabel, 107, 113, 123,' 124, T I49 V Lunt, George, 214. Luther, Martin, 89. Lytton, Edward Bulwer, Lord, 168, MACREADY, WILLIAM, 21 8. Maistre, Joseph de, 221. Mars, Anne F. H., 210, 211. Mathews, Charles, 207. Merivale, Herman, 95. Miller, Joaquin, 43, 1 26. Milton, John, 74. Mistral, Frederic, 293-297. Mistral, Mme. Frederic, 295, 296, Mitchell, Donald G., 185. Mitford, Mary R., 98. Montaigne, Michel de, 112, 238, 239. Morton, W. T. G., 94 and n. Motley, J. Lothrop, 37. Mott, Lucretia C, 74. Murdoch, James E., 217, 218. Music Hall, Boston, great organ in, 219, 220, 221. "NASBY, PETROLEUM V." See Locke, D. R. Nichol, Professor, 90. Nilsson, Christine, 214, 224-226. Norton, Caroline (Sheridan), 46. Norton, Charles Eliot, 92, 103, 104, 141, 144, 172, 185, 187. Norton, Mrs. C. E., 163. O'BRIEN, FITZ- JAMES, 227-229. O'Connell, Daniel, 173, 176, 177. Orsay, Count d', 145. Osgood, James R., 116, 136, 151, 153, 161, 162, 165, 166, 167, 185. PARKER, HARVEY D., 206. Parkman, Francis, 104, 105. Parkman, Mrs. Francis, 35. Parkman, George, murder of, 1 53. Parsons, Thomas W., 208, 214. Parton, James, no, in, 232. Peabody, Elizabeth, 82, 119, Pedro, Dom, Emperor of Brazil, 1 27, 128. Perabo, Ernst, 224. Phelps, Elizabeth Stuart, 275. Phi Beta Kappa, Harvard (1868), 36, 37; 92. Phillips, Wendell, 89, 114. Phipps, Colonel, 188, 189. Pickwick, Mr., in. Pierce, Franklin, Hawthorne's loy- alty to, 13, 14, 15.; 57,58,67. Pierce, Mrs. Franklin, death of, 57, 58. Pierce, Henry L., 229, 290. Poore, Ben Perley, 266. Pratt, Mrs. Ellerton, 288. Prescott, Harriet (Mrs.Spofford), 58. Putnam, George, 36^., 213. Putnam, John P., 221. QUINCY, EDMUND, 86, 273. Quincy, Josiah, 85, 275, 276, 277. Quincy, Josiah P., 86, 92, 93. Quincy, Mrs. Josiah P., 92. Quixote, Don, no, 3 I2 INDEX RADICAL CLUB, 114. Raymond, John T., 253. Read, John M., 31, 32. Read, T. Buchanan, 44. Reade, Charles, 146. Rip Van Winkle, in. Ripley, Miss, 88. Ripley, Mrs., 91. Ristori, Adelaide, 222. Rogers, Samuel, 185. Rossetti, Christina, 97 Rowse, Samuel W., 152. Russell, Thomas, 261. SANBORN, F. B., 68. Saturday Club, 104, 105, 116 and n. Schurz, Carl, 266. Scott-Siddons, Mrs., no. Seward, William H., 28, 219, 267. Shaw, Lemuel, 232. Shaw, Robert G., 14, 24. Shelley, Percy B., 16. Sherman, William T., 77. Shiel, Mr., 173, 176. Silsbee, Mrs., 95, 143. Smith, Alexander, 17, 19. Smith, Samuel F., 47. Smith, Sydney, 89, 257. Somerset, Duchess of, 46. Stanley, Edward G. S.S. (afterward I 4 th Earl of Derby), 173, 174, 175. Stanton, Edwin M., 267. Stephen, Leslie, 95. Sterling, John, 75. Stone, Lucy, 114. Story, William W., 116. Stothard, Thomas, 190. Stowe, Calvin E., 272. Stowe, "Georgie," 38, 39. Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 38, 39, 61, 191 and ., 268, 272. Sumner, Charles, 42, 44, 45, 46, 48, 77,ios,2i9,258-267. TAYLOR, BAYARD, 109, 1 10, 1 1 1, 1 16, 117, 118, 119, 228, 266. Taylor, Mrs. Bayard, 109, no, in. Tennent, Sir Emerson, 153. Tennyson, Alfred, Lord, 254, 279. Tennyson, Lady, 74, Terry, Ellen, 218, 300, 301. Thackeray, William M., 32, 33, in, 154, 266. Thaxter, Celia, 98, 129-131, 152, 154, 288. Thompson, Launt, 198. Thoreau, Helen, 62, 74. Thoreau, Henry D., 14, 62, 68, 89, 90. Thoreau, Sophia, 68. Thoreau, Mrs. (mother of H. D.T.), 62, 68, 74. Ticknor, William D., 63/. Ticknor and Fields, 10. Ticknor, Reed and Fields, 17. Towne, Alice, 45. Towne, Helen, 45. Townshend, Chauncey, 169. Trimble, Colonel, 273. Twain, Mark. See Clemens, Sam- uel L. UPHAM, J. BAXTER, 221 and n. VAUGHAN, HENRY, 74, 81, 95. Viardot-Garcia, Michelle F. P., Victoria, Queen, 187, 188. Vieuxtemps, Henri, 225. 225. WARD, ARTEMUS. See Browne, Charles F. Ward, Mary A. (Mrs. Humphry), 288. Ward, Samuel, 90. Warren, William, 203, 205, 206. Washington, George, 259. Wasson, David A., 1 14. Waterston, Mrs., 24. Watts, Isaac, 101. Webster, John W., 153. Whipple, Edwin P., 20. White, Andrew D., 92. Whitman, Sarah, 288. Whitney, Anne, 101, 102, 206. Whittier, Elizabeth, 259. Whittier, John G., 39, 40, 68, 70, 114, 129, 130, 131, 161, 222, 244, 288. Willard, Eliza J. See Fields, Eliza J. (Willard)/" McGRATH-SHERKILL PRESS GRAPHIC ARTS BLDG. BOSTON RETURN TO: CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT 198 Main Stacks LOAN PERIOD 1 Home Use 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS. Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date. Books may be renewed by calling 642-3405. DUE AS STAMPED BELOW. SEP 2 4 20 r FORM NO. DD6 50M 6-00 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY Berkeley, California 94720-6000 LD 21A-50W-9/58 (6889slO)476B T **T5eneral Library University of California Berkeley U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES cootissii"