The bitter drink men offered him

His kingly gesture did decline,

And my heart sought, in musing dim,

Some cordial for those lips divine.

When lo! a cup of purest gold

My trembling fingers did uphold;

Within it glowed a wine as red

As hearts, not grapes, its drops had shed.

Drink deep, my Christ, I offer thee

The ransom of Humanity.

J. W. H.

Though Jesus, alas! is as little understood in doctrine as followed

in example. For he has hitherto been like a beautiful figure set to

point out a certain way, and people at large have been so entranced

with worshipping the figure, that they have neglected to follow the

direction it indicates.

J. W. H.

The winter of 1898-99 saw the publication of "From Sunset Ridge; Poems

Old and New." This volume contained many of the poems from "Later

Lyrics" (long out of print), and also much of her later work. It met

with a warm recognition which gave her much pleasure.

Late in 1899 appeared the "Reminiscences," on which she had been so long

at work. These were even more warmly received, though many people

thought them too short. Colonel Higginson said the work might have been

"spread out into three or four interesting octavos; but in her hurried

grasp it is squeezed into one volume, where groups of delightful

interviews with heroes at home and abroad are crowded into some single

sentence."

The book was written mostly from memory, with little use of the

Journals, and none of the family letters and papers, which she had

carefully preserved through many years; she needed none of these things.

Her past was always alive, and she went hand in hand with its dear and

gracious figures.

But we have outstripped the Journals and must go back to the beginning

of 1899.

"[_Boston._] _January 1, 1899._ I begin this year with an anxious mind.

I am fighting the Wolf, hand to hand. I am also confused between the

work already done on my 'Reminiscences,' and that still wanting to give

them some completeness. May the All-Father help me!"

"_January 9._ Dined with the Massachusetts Press Club Association. I

made a little speech partly thought out beforehand. The best bit in

it--'Why should we fear to pass from the Old Testament of our own

liberties, to the New Testament of liberty for all the world?'--came to

me on the spur of the moment...."

"_January 16._ ... Dickens Party at the New England Woman's Club. I

despaired of being able to go, but did manage to get up a costume and

take part. Many very comical travesties, those of Pickwick and Captain

Cuttle remarkably good; also Lucia M. Peabody as Martin Chuzzlewit, and

Mrs. Godding in full male dress suit. I played a Virginia reel and

finally danced myself."

The part she herself took on this occasion was that of Mrs. Jellyby, a

character she professed to resemble. At another club party she

impersonated Mrs. Jarley, with a fine collection of celebrities, which

she exhibited proudly. She always put on her best motley for her "dear

Club"; and in those days its fooling was no less notable than its

wisdom. Among other things, she instituted the Poetical Picnics, picnic

suppers to which every member must bring an original poem: some of her

best nonsense was recited at these suppers.

It has been said that she had the gift of the word in season. This was

often shown at the Club; especially when, as sometimes happened, a

question of the hour threatened to become "burning." It is remembered

how one day a zealous sister thundered so loud against corporal

punishment that some mothers and grandames were roused to equally ardent

rejoinder. The President was appealed to.

"_Dear_ Mrs. Howe, I am sure that _you_ never laid a hand on _your_

children!"

"Oh, yes," said dear Mrs. Howe. "I cuffed 'em a bit when I thought they

needed it!"

Even "militancy" could be touched lightly by her. Talk was running high

on the subject one day; eyes began to flash ominously, voices took on "a

wire edge," as she expressed it. Again the appeal was made.

"Can you imagine, Mrs. Howe, under _any_ circumstances--"

The twinkle came into the gray eyes. "Well!" she said. "I am pretty old,

but I _think_ I could manage a broomstick!"

The tension broke in laughter, and the sisters were sisters once more.

"_January 23._ Worked as usual. Attended the meeting in favor of the

Abolition of the Death Penalty, which was interesting.... I spoke on the

ground of hope."

"_February 7._ ... I hope to take life more easily now than for some

time past, and to have rest from the slavery of pen and ink."

"_February 28._ ... Was interviewed by a Miss X, who has persevered in

trying to see me, and at last brought a note from ----. She is part

editor of a magazine named 'Success,' and, having effected an entrance,

proceeded to interview me, taking down my words for her magazine, thus

getting my ideas without payment, a very mean proceeding...."

"_March 21._ Tuskegee benefit, Hollis Street Theatre.

"This meeting scored a triumph, not only for the performers, but for the

race. Bishop Lawrence presided with much good grace and appreciation.

Paul Dunbar was the least distinct. Professor Dubois, of Atlanta

University, read a fine and finished discourse. Booker Washington was

eloquent as usual, and the Hampton quartet was delightful. At the tea

which followed at Mrs. Whitman's studio, I spoke with these men and

with Dunbar's wife, a nearly white woman of refined appearance. I asked

Dubois about the negro vote in the South. He thought it better to have

it legally taken away than legally nullified."

"_April 17._ Kindergarten for the Blind.... I hoped for a good word to

say, but could only think of Shakespeare's 'The evil that men do lives

after them; the good is oft interred with their bones,' intending to say

that this does not commend itself to me as true. Mr. Eels spoke before

me and gave me an occasion to use this with more point than I had hoped.

He made a rather flowery discourse, and eulogized Annie Sullivan and

Helen Keller as a new experience in human society. In order to show how

the good that men do survives them, I referred to Dr. Howe's first

efforts for the blind and to his teaching of Laura Bridgman, upon whom I

dwelt somewhat...."

"_April 23._... Had a sort of dream-vision of the dear Christ going

through Beacon Street in shadow, and then in his glory. It was only a

flash of a moment's thought...."

"_April 25._ To Alliance, the last meeting of the season. Mrs. ----

spoke, laying the greatest emphasis on women acting so as to _express

themselves in freedom_. This ideal of self-expression appears to me

insufficient and dangerous, if taken by itself. I mentioned its

insufficiency, while recognizing its importance. I compared feminine

action under the old limitations to the touching of an electric eel,

which immediately gives one a paralyzing shock. I spoke also of the new

woman world as at present constituted, as like the rising up from the

sea of a new continent. In my own youth women were isolated from each

other by the very intensity of their personal consciousness. I thought

of myself and of other women in this way. We thought that superior women

ought to have been born men. A blessed change is that which we have

witnessed."

* * * * *

As her eightieth birthday drew nigh, her friends vied with one another

in loving observance of the time. The festivities began May 17 with a

meeting of the New England Women's Press Association, where she gave a

lecture on "Patriotism in Literature" and received "eighty beautiful

pink roses for my eighty years."

Next came the "annual meeting and lunch of the New England Woman's Club.

This took the character of a pre-celebration of my eightieth birthday,

and was highly honorific. I can only say that I do not think of myself

as the speakers seemed to think of me. Too deeply do I regret my seasons

of rebellion, and my shortcomings in many duties. Yet am I thankful for

so much good-will. I only deserve it because I return it."

Between this and the day itself came a memorial meeting in honor of the

ninety-sixth anniversary of Emerson's birth. Here she spoke "mostly of

the ladies of his family"--Emerson's mother and his wife. Said also,

"Emerson was as great in what he did not say as in what he said.

Second-class talent tells the whole story, reasons everything out;

great genius suggests even more than it says."

She was already what she used to call "Boston's old spoiled child!" All

through the birthday flowers, letters, and telegrams poured into the

house. From among the tokens of love and reverence may be chosen the

quatrain sent by Richard Watson Gilder:--

"How few have rounded out so full a life!

Priestess of righteous war and holy peace,

Poet and sage, friend, sister, mother, wife,

Long be it ere that noble heart shall cease!"

The "Woman's Journal" issued a special Birthday number. It was a lovely

and heart-warming anniversary, the pleasure of which long remained with

her.

Among the guests was the beloved physician of many years, William P.

Wesselhoeft. Looking round on the thronged and flower-decked rooms, he

said, "This is all very fine, Mrs. Howe; but on your ninetieth birthday

I shall come, and _nobody else_!" Alas! before that day the lion voice

was silent, the cordial presence gone.

Three days later came an occasion which stirred patriotic Boston to its

depths. The veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic had invited

Major-General Joseph Wheeler to deliver the Memorial Day oration in

Boston Theatre. Our mother was the second guest of honor. She has

nothing to say of this occasion beyond the fact that she "had a great

time in the morning," and that in the open carriage with her sat

"General Wheeler's two daughters--_very_ pleasing girls"; but pasted in

the Journal is the following clipping from the "Philadelphia Press":--

BOSTON WARMED UP

The Major has just returned from Boston, where he was present at the

Memorial Day services held in Boston Theatre.

It was the real thing. I never imagined possible such a genuine sweeping

emotion as when that audience began to sing the "Battle Hymn." If Boston

was cold, it was thawed by the demonstration on Tuesday. Myron W.

Whitney started to sing. He bowed to a box, in which we first recognized

Mrs. Howe, sitting with the Misses Wheeler. You should have heard the

yell. We could see the splendid white head trembling; then her voice

joined in, as Whitney sang, "In the beauty of the lilies," and by the

time he had reached the words,--

"As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,"--

the whole vast audience was on its feet, sobbing and singing at the top

of its thousands of lungs. If volunteers were really needed for the

Philippines, McKinley could have had us all right there.

The same evening she went "to Unitarian meeting in Tremont Temple, where

read my screed about Governor Andrew, which has cost me some work and

more anxiety. Rev. S. A. Eliot, whom I saw for the first time, was

charmingly handsome and friendly. I was introduced as 'Saint Julia' and

the whole audience rose when I came forward to read. Item: I had dropped

my bag with my manuscript in the carriage, but Charles Fox telephoned to

the stable and got it for me."

The spring of this year saw an epidemic of negro-lynching, which roused

deep indignation throughout the country. On May 20 the Journal records

"a wonderful meeting at Chickering Hall, called by the colored women of

Boston, to protest against the lynching of negroes in the South. Mrs.

Butler M. Wilson presided, an octoroon and a woman of education. Her

opening address was excellent in spirit and in execution. A daughter of

Mrs. Ruffin also wrote an excellent address: Mrs. Cheney's was very

earnest and impressive. Alice Freeman Palmer spoke as I have never

before heard her. My rather brief speech was much applauded, as were

indeed all of the others. Mrs. Richard Hallowell was on the platform and

introduced Mrs. Wilson."

This brief speech brought upon her a shower of letters, mostly

anonymous, from persons who saw only the anti-negro side of this matter,

so dreadful in every aspect. These letters were often denunciatory,

sometimes furious in tone, especially one addressed to

_Mrs. Howe, Negro Sympathizer,

Boston._

This grieved her, but she did not cease to lift up her voice against the

evil thing whenever occasion offered.

"_July 7._ _Oak Glen._ ... My son and his wife came over from Bristol to

pass the day. He looks as young as my grandsons do. At fifty, his hair

is blond, without gray, and his forehead unwrinkled."

"_July 16._ ... While in church I had a new thought of the energy and

influence of Christ's teaching. 'Ask and ye shall receive,' etc. These

little series of commands all incite the hearers to action: Ask, seek,

knock. I should love to write a sermon on this, but fear my sermonizing

days are over, alas!"

"_August 7._ Determined to do more literary work daily than I have been

doing lately. Began a screed about dear Bro' Sam, feeling that he

deserved a fuller mention than I have already given him...."

"_September 4._ Discouraged over the confusion of my papers, the failure

of printers to get on with my book, and my many bills. Have almost had

an attack of the moral sickness which the Italians call _Achidia_. I

suppose it to mean indifference and indolence...."

_To Laura_

OAK GLEN, September 6, 1899.

... Here's a question. Houghton and Mifflin desire to print[127] the

rough draft of my "Battle Hymn," which they borrowed, with some

difficulty, from Charlotte Whipple, who begged it of me, years ago. I

hesitate to allow it, because it contains a verse which I discarded, as

not up to the rest of the poem. It will undoubtedly be an additional

attraction for the volume....

[127] In the _Reminiscences_.

"_September 7._ Have attacked my proofs fiercely...."

_To Laura_

OAK GLEN, September 16, 1899.

Yours received, _très chère_. Why not consult Hays Gardiner[128] about

printing the original draft of the "Hymn"? Win's[129] opinion would be

worth having, also. I think I shall consult E. E. Hale, albeit the two

just named would be more fastidious.[130]

[128] The late John Hays Gardiner, author of _The Bible as Literature_,

_The Forms of Prose Literature_, and _Harvard_.

[129] Edwin Arlington Robinson, author of _Captain Craig_, etc.

[130] The facsimile printed in the _Reminiscences_ contains the

discarded stanza.

"_October 21._ My last moments in this dear place. The past season

appears to me like a gift of perfect jewels. I pray that the winter may

have in store for me some good work and much dear and profitable

companionship. I must remember that this may be my last summer here, or

anywhere on earth, but must bear in mind that it is best to act with a

view to prolonged life, since without this outlook, it is very hard for

us to endeavor or to do our best. Peace be with you, beautiful summer

and autumn. Amen."

She was never ready to leave Oak Glen; the town house always seemed at

first like a prison.

"_October 23_. Boston. A drizzly, dark day. I struggled out twice,

saying to myself: 'It is for your life.'..."

"_October 24._ Have had two days of chaos and discouragement...."

"_October 27._ A delightful and encouraging conference of A.A.W. held in

my parlors. The prevailing feeling was that we should not disband, but

should hold on to our association and lie by, hoping to find new innings

for work. Florida was spoken of as good ground for us. I felt much

cheered and quickened by the renewal of old friendships...."

A Western lecture trip had been planned for this autumn, but certain

untoward symptoms developed and Dr. Wesselhoeft said, "No! no! not even

if you had not had vertigo." She gave it up most reluctantly, confiding

only to the Journal the hope that she might be able to go later.

"_November 9._ Celebration of dear Chev's birthday at the Institution. I

spoke of the New Testament word about the mustard seed, so small but

producing such a stately tree. I compared this little seed to a

benevolent impulse in the mind of S. G. H. and the Institution to a

tree. 'What is smaller than a human heart? What seems weaker than a good

intention? Yet the good intention, followed by the faithful heart, has

produced this great refuge in which many generations have already found

the way to a life of educated usefulness.'..."

"_November 19...._ Before the sermon I had prayed for some good thought

of God. This came to me in the shape of a sudden perception to this

effect: 'I am in the Father's house already.'..."

"_November 30...._ In giving thanks to-day, I made my only personal

petitions, which were first, that some of my dear granddaughters might

find suitable husbands, ... and lastly, that I might _serve_ in some way

until the last breath leaves my body...."

"_December 16._ I had greatly desired to see the 'Barber.' Kind Mrs.

[Alfred] Batcheller made it possible by inviting me to go with her. The

performance was almost if not quite _bouffe_. Sembrich's singing

marvellous, the acting of the other characters excellent, and singing

very good, especially that of De Reszke and Campanari. I heard the

opera in New York more than seventy years ago, when Malibran, then

Signorina Garcia, took the part of Rosina."

"_December 31...._ 'Advertiser' man came with a query: 'What event in

1899 will have the greatest influence in the world's history?' I

replied, 'The Czar's Peace Manifesto, leading to the Conference at The

Hague.'"

November, 1899, saw the birth of another institution from which she was

to derive much pleasure, the Boston Authors' Club. Miss Helen M. Winslow

first evolved the idea of such a club. After talking with Mmes. May

Alden Ward and Mabel Loomis Todd, who urged her to carry out the

project, she went to see the "Queen of Clubs." "Go ahead!" said our

mother. "Call some people together here, at my house, and we will form a

club, and it will be a good one too."

The Journal of November 23 says:--

"Received word from Helen Winslow of a meeting of literary folks called

for to-morrow morning at my house."

This meeting was "very pleasant: Mrs. Ward, Miss Winslow, Jacob Strauss,

and Hezekiah Butterworth attended--later Herbert Ward came in."

It was voted to form the Boston Authors' Club, and at a second meeting

in December the club was duly organized.

In January the Authors' Club made its first public appearance in a

meeting and dinner at Hotel Vendôme, Mrs. Howe presiding, Colonel

Higginson (whom she described as her "chief Vice") beside her.

The brilliant and successful course of the Authors' Club need not be

dwelt on here. Her connection with it was to continue through life, and

its monthly meetings and annual dinners were among her pet pleasures.

She was always ready to "drop into rhyme" in its service, the Muse in

cap and bells being oftenest invoked: _e.g._, the verses written for the

five hundredth anniversary of Chaucer's death:--

Poet Chaucer had a sister,

He, the wondrous melodister.

She didn't write no poems, oh, no!

Brother Geoffrey trained her so.

Honored by the poet's crown,

Her posterity came down.

* * * * *

Ages of ancestral birth

Went for all that they were worth.

Hence derives the Wentworth name

Which heraldic ranks may claim.

That same herald has contrived

How the Higginson arrived.

He was gran-ther to the knight

In whose honor I indite

Burning strophes of the soul

'propriate to the flowing bowl.

Oft the worth I have defended

Of the Laureate-descended,

But while here he sits and winks

I can tell you what he thinks.

"Never, whether old or young,

Will that woman hold her tongue!

Fifty years in Boston schooled,

Still I find her rhyme-befooled.

Oft in earnest, oft in jest,

We have met and tried our best.

Nought I dread an open field,

I can conquer, I can yield,

Self from foes I can defend,

But Heav'n preserve us from our friend!"

She and her "chief Vice" were always making merry together; when their

flint and steel struck, the flash was laughter. It may have been at the

Authors' Club that the two, with Edward Everett Hale and Dr. Holmes,

were receiving compliments and tributes one afternoon.

"At least," she cried, "no one can say that Boston drops its _H's_!"

This was in the winter of 1900. It was the time of the Boer War, and all

Christendom was sorrowing over the conflict. On January 3 the Journal

says:--

"This morning before rising, I had a sudden thought of the Christ-Babe

standing between the two armies, Boers and Britons, on Christmas Day. I

have devoted the morning to an effort to overtake the heavenly vision

with but a mediocre result."

These lines are published in "At Sunset."

On the 11th the cap and bells are assumed once more.

"... To reception of the College Club, where I was to preside over the

literary exercises and to introduce the readers. I was rather at a loss

how to do this, but suddenly I thought of Mother Goose's 'When the pie

was opened, the birds began to sing.' So when Edward Everett Hale came

forward with me and introduced me as 'the youngest person in the hall,'

I said, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, I shall prove the truth of what our

reverend friend has just said, by citing a quotation from Mother Goose

['When the pie was opened,' etc.], and the first bird that I shall

introduce will be Rev. E. E. Hale.' Beginning thus, I introduced T. W.

Higginson as the great American Eagle; Judge [Robert] Grant as a

mocking-bird; C. F. Adams as the trained German canary who sings all the

songs of Yawcob Strauss; C. G. Ames said, 'You mustn't call me an owl.'

I brought him forward and said, 'My dear minister says that I must not

call him an owl, and I will not; only the owl is the bird of wisdom and

he is very wise.' I introduced Mrs. Moulton as a nightingale. For

Trowbridge I could think of nothing and said, 'This bird will speak for

himself.' Introduced N. H. Dole as 'a bird rarely seen, the phoenix.'

At the close E. E. H. said, 'You have an admirable power of

introducing.' This little device pleased me foolishly."

"_February 4._ Wrote a careful letter to W. F. Savage. He had written,

asking an explanation of some old manuscript copy of my 'Battle Hymn'

and of the theft perpetrated of three of its verses in 'Pen Pictures of

the War,' only lately brought to my notice. He evidently thought these

matters implied doubt at least of my having composed the 'Hymn.' To this

suspicion I did not allude, but showed him how the verses stolen had

been altered, probably to avoid detection...."

"_March 3._ Count di Campello's lecture, on the religious life in

Italy, was most interesting. His uncle's movement in founding a National

Italian Catholic Church seemed to me to present the first solution I

have met with, of the absolute opposition between Catholic and

Protestant. A Catholicism without spiritual tyranny, without ignorant

superstition, would bridge over the interval between the two opposites

and bring about the unification of the world-church...."

"_March 13...._ Passed the whole morning at State House, with

remonstrants against petition forbidding Sunday evening concerts. T. W.

H. spoke remarkably well...."

"_March 30...._ Had a special good moment this morning before rising.

Felt that God had granted me a good deal of heaven, while yet on earth.

So the veil lifts sometimes, not for long."

April found her in Minneapolis and St. Paul, lecturing and being

"delightfully entertained."

"_May 8. Minneapolis._ Spoke at the University, which I found

delightfully situated and richly endowed. Was received with great

distinction. Spoke, I think, on the fact that it takes the whole of life

to learn the lessons of life. Dwelt a little on the fact that fools are

not necessarily underwitted. Nay, may be people of genius, the trouble

being that they do not learn from experience...."

On leaving she exclaims:--

"Farewell, dear St. Paul. I shall never forget you, nor this delightful

visit, which has renewed (almost) the dreams of youth. In the car a

kind old grandmother, with two fine little boy grands....

"The dear old grandmother and her boys got out at the Soo. Other ladies

in the Pullman were _very_ kind to me, especially a lady from St. Paul,

with her son, who I thought might be a young husband. She laughed much

at this when I mentioned it to her. Had an argument with her, regarding

hypnotism, I insisting that it is demoralizing when used by a strong

will to subdue a weak one."

"_May 25._ [_Boston._] Went in the afternoon to Unitarian meeting at

Tremont Temple. S. A. Eliot made me come up on the platform. He asked if

I would give a word of benediction. I did so, thanking God earnestly in

my heart for granting me this sweet office, which seemed to lift my soul

above much which has disturbed it of late. Why is He so good to me?

Surely not to destroy me at last."

"_June 3...._ Before church had a thought of some sweet spirit asking to

go to hell to preach to the people there. Thought that if he truly

fulfilled his office, he would not leave even that forlorn

pastorate...."

"_June 10...._ Could not find the key to my money bag, which distressed

me much. Promised St. Anthony of Padua that if he would help me, I would

take pains to find out who he was. Found the key immediately...."

"_June 18...._ The little lump in my right breast hurts me a little

to-day. Have written Wesselhoeft about it. 4.50 P.M. He has seen it and

says that it is probably cancerous; forbids me to think of an

operation; thinks he can stop it with medicine. When he told me that it

was in all probability a cancer, I felt at first much unsettled in mind.

I feared that the thought of it would occupy my mind and injure my

health by inducing sleeplessness and nervous excitement. Indeed, I had

some sad and rather vacant hours, but dinner and Julia's[131] company

put my dark thought to flight and I lay down to sleep as tranquilly as

usual."

[131] Julia Ward Richards.

[Whatever this trouble was, it evidently brought much suffering, but

finally disappeared. We learn of it for the first time in this record;

she never spoke of it to any of her family.]

"_Oak Glen. June 21._ Here I am seated once more at my old table,

beginning another _villeggiatura_, which may easily be my last. Have

read a little Greek and a long article in the 'New World.' I pray the

dear Heavenly Father to help me pass a profitable season here, improving

it as if it were my last, whether it turns out to be so or not."

[She was not in her usual spirits this summer. She felt the heat and the

burden of years. The Journal is mostly in a minor key.]

"_July 16._ Took up a poem at which I have been working for some days,

on the victims in Pekin; a strange theme, but one on which I feel I have

a word to say. Wrote it all over...."

"_July 19._ Was much worn out with the heat. In afternoon my head gave

out and would not serve me for anything but to sit still and observe the

flight of birds and the freaks of yellow butterflies...."

"_July 26._ Have prayed to-day that I may not find life dull. This

prolongation of my days on earth is so precious that I ought not to

cease for one moment to thank God for it. I enjoy my reading as much as

ever, but I do feel very much the narrowing of my personal relations by

death. How rich was I in sisters, brothers, elders! It seems to me now

as if I had not at all appreciated these treasures of affection...."

"_July 31._ Have writ notes of condolence to Mrs. Barthold Schlesinger

and to M. E. Powel. I remember the coming of Mrs. Powel's family to

Newport sixty-five years ago. The elders used to entertain in the simple

ways of those days, and my brother Henry and I used to sing one duet

from the 'Matrimonio Segreto,' at some of their evening parties. In the

afternoon came the ladies of the Papéterie; had our tea in the green

parlor, which was pretty and pleasant...."

_To Laura_

OAK GLEN, August 3, 1900.

... I grieve for the death of King Umberto, as any one must who has

followed the fortunes of Italy and knows the indebtedness of the country

to the House of Savoy. Thus, the horror of this anarchy, thriving among

Italians in our own country. I am so thankful that the better class

among them have come out so strongly against it! I was present when King

Umberto took the oaths of office, after the death of his father. He was

a faithful man, not quite up to the times, perhaps, but his reign was

beset with problems and difficulties. I am sure that the Queen greatly

respected and honored him, although I believe that she was first

betrothed to his brother Amadeo, whom, it is said, she loved. Alas, for

the tyranny of dynastic necessity. Their only child was very delicate,

and has no child, or had not, when I was in Rome. As to the Chinese

horror, it is unspeakably dreadful. Even if the ministers are safe,

hundreds of foreigners and thousands of native Christians have been

cruelly massacred. I cannot help hoping that punishment will be swift

and severe....

A letter from H. M. H. yesterday, in great spirits. At a great public

dinner recently, the president of the association cried: "_Honneur à

Howe!_"

Affect.,

MOTHER.

"_August 17...._ In the evening I was seized with an attack of verse and

at bedtime wrote a rough draft of a _Te Deum_ for the rescue of the

ministers in Pekin."

"_August 20...._ Got my poem smooth at some expense of force, perhaps. I

like the poem. I think that it has been _given_ me."

This _Te Deum_ was printed in the "Christian Herald" in September, 1900.

"_Sunday, September 2...._ I had, before service began, a clear thought

that _self_ is death, and deliverance from its narrow limitations the

truest emancipation. In my heart I gave thanks to God for all measure in

which I have attained, or tried to attain, this liberation. It seems to

me that the one moment of this which we could perfectly attain, would be

an immortal joy."

A week later, she went to New York to attend a reception given to the

Medal of Honor Legion at Brooklyn Academy. She writes:--

"Last evening's occasion was to me eminently worth the trouble I had

taken in coming on. To meet these veterans, face to face, and to receive

their hearty greeting, was a precious boon vouchsafed to me so late in

life. Their reception to me was cordial in the extreme. The audience and

chorus gave me the Chautauqua salute, and as I left the platform, the

girl chorus sang the last verse of my 'Hymn' over again, in a subdued

tone, as if for me alone. The point which I made, and wished to make,

was that, 'our flag should only go forth on errands of justice, mercy,

etc., and that once sent forth, it should not be recalled until the work

whereunto it had been pledged was accomplished.' This with a view to

Pekin...."

"_September 13...._ The Galveston horror[132] was much in my mind

yesterday. I could not help asking why the dear Lord allowed such

dreadful loss of life...."

[132] A terrible storm and tidal wave which had nearly destroyed the

city.

"_October 25._ My last writing at this time in this dear place. The

season, a very busy one, has also been a very blessed one. I cannot be

thankful enough for so much calm delight--my children and grandchildren,

my books and my work, although this last has caused me many anxieties. I

cannot but feel as old John Forbes did when he left Naushon for the last

time and went about in his blindness, touching his writing materials,

etc., and saying to himself, 'Never again, perhaps.' If it should turn

out so in my case, God's will be done. He knows best when we should

depart and how long we should stay...."

"On the way home and afterwards, these lines of an old hymn ran in my

mind:--

'Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not afraid.

I, I am thy God, and will still give thee aid.'

This comforted me much in the forlorn exchange of my lovely surroundings

at Oak Glen for the imprisonment of a town house."

"_November 4. 241 Beacon Street._ The dear minister preached on 'All

Saints and All Souls,' the double festival of last week. At Communion he

said: 'Dear Sister Howe, remember that if you are moved to speak, you

have freedom to do so.' I had not thought of speaking, but presently

rose and spoke of the two consecrated days. I said: 'As I entered this

church to-day, I thought of a beautiful cathedral in which one after

another the saints whom I have known and loved, appeared on either side;

first, the saints of my own happy childhood, then the excellent people

whom I have known all my life long. The picture of one of them hangs on

these walls.[133] His memory is fresh in all our hearts. Surely it is a

divine glory which we have seen in the faces of these friends, and they

seem to lead us up to that dearest and divinest one, whom we call

Master'; and so on. I record this to preserve this vision of the

cathedral of heart saints...."

[133] James Freeman Clarke.

"_December 25._ I was awake soon after five this morning, and a voice,

felt, not heard, seemed to give me a friendly warning to set my house in

order for my last departure from it. This seems to bring in view my

age, already long past the scriptural limit, suggesting also that I have

some symptoms of an ailment which does not trouble me much, but which

would naturally tend to shorten my life. In my mind I promised that I

would heed the warning given. I only prayed God to make the parting easy

for me and my dear ones, of whom dear Maud would be the most to be

pitied, as she has been most with me and has no child to draw her

thoughts to the future. After this, I fell asleep.

"We had a merry time at breakfast, examining the Christmas gifts, which

were numerous and gratifying...."

"_December 31...._ Here ends a year of mercies, of more than my usual

health, of power to speak and to write. It has been a year of work. God

be thanked for it."

CHAPTER XII

STEPPING WESTWARD

1901-1902; _aet._ 82-83

But here the device of the spiral can save us. We must make the

round, but we may make it with an upward inclination. "Let there be

light!" is sometimes said in accents so emphatic, that the universe

remembers and cannot forget it. We carry our problems slowly

forward. With all the ups and downs of every age, humanity

constantly rises. Individuals may preserve all its early delusions,

commit all its primitive crimes; but to the body of civilized

mankind, the return to barbarism is impossible.

J. W. H.

"_January 7._ I have had a morning of visioning, lying in bed. 'Be still

and know that I am God,' seemed to be my sentence. I thought of the

Magdalen's box of spikenard, whose odor, when the box was broken, filled

the house. The separate religious convictions of the sects seemed to me

like so many boxes of ointment, exceedingly precious while shut up, but

I thought also that the dear Lord would one day break these separate

boxes, and that then their fragrance would fill the whole earth, which

is His house.

"This is my first writing in this book. From this thought and the 'Be

still,' I may try to make two sermons.

"In afternoon came William Wesselhoeft, Sr., and prescribed entire quiet

and rest for some days to come. Oh! I do long to be at work."

"_January 9._ To-day for the first time since January 3, I have opened a

Greek book. I read in my Æschylus ["Eumenides"] how Apollo orders the

Furies to leave his shrine, to go where deeds of barbarity, tortures,

and mutilations are practised."

At this time she heard of her son's receiving from the Czar the cross of

the Order of St. Stanislas. She writes to him:--

"Goodness gracious me!

"Are you sure it isn't by mistake? Do you remember that you are my

naughty little imp?... Well, well, it takes away my breath! Dearest Boy,

my heart is lifted up with gratitude. If your father were only here, to

share our great rejoicing! Joy! joy!..."

She had always taken a deep interest in Queen Victoria, whose age was

within three days of her own. Many people fancied a resemblance between

the two; indeed, when in England as a bride, she was told more than

once: "You look like our young Queen!" It is remembered how one of her

daughters, knocking at the door of a Maine farmhouse to inquire the way,

was met by a smiling, "I know who you are! You are the daughter of the

Queen of America!"

The Queen's death, coming as it did during her own illness, gave her a

painful shock.

"_January 23._ The news of Queen Victoria's death quite overcame me for

a moment this morning. Instead of settling to my work, I wrote a very

tiny 'bust of feeling' about her, which I carried to the 'Woman's

Journal' office, where I found a suffrage meeting in progress. I could

only show myself and say that I was not well enough to remain...."

"Bust of feeling" was a favorite expression of hers. Old Bostonians

will recall its origin. "A certain rich man," seeing a poor girl injured

in a street accident, offered to pay her doctor's bill. This being

presented in due time, he disclaimed all responsibility in the affair;

and when reminded of his offer, exclaimed, "Oh, that was a bust of

feeling!"

On January 31, she was "in distress of mind all day lest Maud should

absolutely refuse to let me give my lecture at Phillips Church this

evening." Later she writes: "Maud was very kind and did nothing to

hinder my going to South Boston." She went and enjoyed the evening, but

was not so well after it.

"_February 10._ A Sunday at home; unable to venture out. Wesselhoeft,

Jr., called, left medicine, and forbade my going out before the cough

has ceased. Have read in Cheyne's 'Jewish Religious Life after the

Exile,' finding the places of reference in the Bible. Afterwards read in

'L'Aiglon,' which is very interesting but not praiseworthy, as it

endeavors to recall the false glory of Napoleon."

"_February 18._ Have been out, first time since February 3, when I went

to church and was physically the worse for it.... Last night had a time

of lying awake with a sort of calm comfort. Woke in the morning full of

invalid melancholy, intending to keep my bed. Felt much better when in

motion. Must make a vigorous effort now to get entirely well."

These days of seclusion were hard for her, and every effort was made to

bring the "mountains" to her, since she could not go to them.

A club was formed among her friends in Boston for the study and speaking

of Italian: this became one of her great pleasures, and she looked

forward eagerly to the meetings, delighted to hear and to use the

beautiful speech she had loved since childhood.

"_February 22._ The new club, _Il Circolo Italiano_, met at our house.

Count Campello had asked me to say a few words, so I prepared a very

little screed in Italian, not daring to trust myself to speak

_extempore_ in this language. We had a large attendance; I thought one

hundred were present. My bit was well received, and the lecture by

Professor Speranza, of New York, was very interesting, though rather

difficult to follow. The theme was D'Annunzio's dramas, from which he

gave some quotations and many characterizations. He relegates D'Annunzio

to the Renaissance when _Virtù_ had no real _moral significance_.

Compared him with Ibsen. The occasion was exceedingly pleasant."

_To Laura_

I had hoped to go to church to-day, but my Maud and your Julia decided

against it, and so I am having the day at home. It is just noon by my

dial, and Maud is stretched in my Gardiner chair, comfortably shawled,

and reading Lombroso's book on "The Man of Genius," with steadfast

attention. Lombroso's theory seems to be that genius, almost equally

with insanity, is a result of degeneration....

"_March 1._ The first day of spring, though in this climate this is a

_wintry_ month. I am thankful to have got on so far in this, my

eighty-second year. My greatest trouble is that I use so poorly the

precious time spared to me. Latterly I have been saying to myself, 'Can

you not see that the drama is played out?' This partly because my

children wish me to give up public speaking."

"_March 4...._ To New England Woman's Club; first time this year, to my

great regret and loss. I was cordially welcomed.... A thought suddenly

came to me, namely, that the liberal education of women would give the

death-blow to superstition. I said, 'We women have been the depositaries

of religious sensibility, but we have also furnished the impregnable

storehouse of superstition, sometimes gracious, sometimes desperately

cruel and hurtful to our race.' No one noticed this, but I hold fast to

it...."

"_March 8...._ To Symphony Concert in afternoon, which I enjoyed but

little, the music being of the multi-muddle order so much in vogue just

now. An air of Haydn's sounded like a sentence of revelation in a

chatter...."

It may have been after this concert that she wrote these lines, found in

one of her notebooks:--

Such ugly noises never in my life

My ears endured, such hideous fiddle-strife.

A dozen street bands playing different tunes,

A choir of chimney sweeps with various runes,

The horn that doth to farmer's dinner call,

The Chinese gong that serves in wealthier hall,

The hammer, scrub brush, and beseeching broom,

While here and there the guns of freedom boom,

"Tzing! bang! this soul is saved!" "Clang! clang! it isn't!"

And _mich_ and _dich_ and _ich_ and _sich_ and _sisn't_!

Five dollar bills the nauseous treat secured,

But what can pay the public that endured?

"_March 17._ Before lying down for a needed rest, I must record the

wonderful reception given to-day to Jack Elliott's ceiling.[134] The day

was fine, clear sunlight. Many friends congratulated me, and some

strangers. Vinton, the artist, Annie Blake, Ellen Dixey were

enthusiastic in their commendation of the work, as were many others. I

saw my old friend, Lizzie Agassiz, my cousin Mary Robeson and her

daughter, and others too numerous to mention.... This I consider a day

of great honor for my family.... _Deo gratias_ for this as well as for

my son's decoration."

[134] The Triumph of Time, at the Public Library.

"_March 31...._ Had a sort of vision in church of Moses and Christ, the

mighty breath of the prophets reaching over many and dark ages to our

own time, with power growing instead of diminishing. When I say a

vision, I mean a vivid thought and mind picture."

"_April 3._ Have writ to Larz Anderson, telling him where to find the

quotation from Horace which I gave him for a motto to his automobile,

'Ocior Euro.' Sanborn found it for me and sent it by postal. It must

have been more than thirty years since dear Brother Sam showed it to

me...."

"_April 7._ A really inspired sermon from C. G. A., 'The power of an

unending life.' ... The Communion which followed was to me almost

miraculous. Mr. Ames called it a festival of commemoration, and it

brought me a mind vision of the many departed dear ones. One after

another the dear forms seemed to paint themselves on my inner vision:

first, the nearer in point of time, last my brother Henry and Samuel

Eliot. I felt that this experience ought to pledge me to new and more

active efforts to help others. In my mind I said, the obstacle to this

is my natural inertia, my indolence; then the thought, God can overcome

this indolence and give me increased power of service and zeal for it.

Those present, I think, all considered the sermon and Communion as of

special power and interest. It almost made me fear lest it should prove

a swan song from the dear minister. Perhaps it is I, not he, who may

soon depart."

Later in April she was able to fulfil some lecture engagements in New

York State with much enjoyment, but also much fatigue. After her return

she felt for a little while "as if it was about time for her to go," but

her mind soon recovered its tone.

Being gently reproved for giving a lecture and holding a reception on

the same day, she said, "That is perfectly proper: I gave and I

received: I was scriptural and I was blessed."

Asked on another occasion if it did not tire her to lecture,--"Why, no!

it is they [the audience] who are tired, not I!"

On April 27 she writes:--

"I have had a great gratification to-day. Mrs. Fiske Warren had invited

us to afternoon tea and to hear Coquelin deliver some monologues. I

bethought me of my poem entitled 'After Hearing Coquelin.' Maud wrote to

ask Mrs. Warren whether she would like to have me read it and she

assented. I procured a fresh copy of the volume in which it is

published, and took it with me to this party, which was large and _very_

representative of Boston's most recognized people. Miss Shedlock first

made a charming recitation in French, which she speaks perfectly. Then

Coquelin gave three delightful monologues. The company then broke up for

tea and I thought my chance was lost, but after a while order was

restored. M. Coquelin was placed where I could see him, and I read the

poem as well as I could. He seemed much touched with the homage, and I

gave him the book. People in general were pleased with the poem and I

was very glad and thankful for so pleasant an experience. Learned with

joy of the birth of a son to my dear niece, Elizabeth Chapman."

Another happy birthday came and passed. After recording its friendly

festivities, she writes:--

"I am _very_ grateful for all this loving kindness. Solemn thoughts must

come to me of the long past and of the dim, uncertain future. I trust

God for His grace. My life has been poor in merit, in comparison to what

it should have been, but I am thankful that to some it has brought

comfort and encouragement, and that I have been permitted to champion

some good causes and to see a goodly number of my descendants, all well

endowed physically and mentally, and starting in life with good

principles and intentions; my children all esteemed and honored for

honorable service in their day and generation."

"_May 30. Decoration Day...._ In the afternoon Maud and I drove out to

Mount Auburn to visit the dear graves. We took with us the best of the

birthday flowers, beautiful roses and lilies. I could not have much

sense of the presence of our dear ones. Indeed, they are not there, but

where they are, God only knows."

"_May 31._ Free Religious meeting.... The fears which the bold programme

had naturally aroused in me, fears lest the dear Christ should be spoken

of in a manner to wound those who love him--these fears were at once

dissipated by the reverent tone of the several speakers...."

"_June 1...._ To the Free Religious festival.... I found something to

say about the beautiful morning meeting and specially of the truth which

comes down to us, mixed with so much rubbish of tradition. I spoke of

the power of truth 'which burns all this accumulation of superstition

and shines out firm and clear, so we may say that "the myth crumbles but

the majesty remains."'..."

She managed to do a good deal of writing this summer: wrote a number of

"screeds," some to order, some from inward leading: _e.g._, a paper on

"Girlhood Seventy Years Ago," a poem on the death of President McKinley.

"_October 5._ A package came to-day from McClure's Syndicate. I thought

it was my manuscript returned and rejected, and said, 'God give me

strength not to cry.' I opened it and found a typewritten copy of my

paper on 'Girlhood,' sent to me for correction in lieu of printer's

proof. Wrote a little on my screed about 'Anarchy.' Had a sudden

thought that the sense and spirit of government is responsibility."

"_October 6...._ Wrote a poem on 'The Dead Century,' which has in it

some good lines, I hope."

"_October 8._ The cook ill with rheumatism. I made my bed, turning the

mattress, and put my room generally to rights. When I lay down to take

my usual _obligato_ rest, a fit of verse came upon me, and I had to

abbreviate my lie-down to write out my _inspiration_."

The "_obligato_ rest"! How she did detest it! She recognized the

necessity of relaxing the tired nerves and muscles; she yielded, but

never willingly. The noon hour would find her bending over her desk,

writing "for dear life," or plunged fathoms deep in Grote's "Greece," or

some other light and playful work. Daughter or granddaughter would

appear, watch in hand, countenance steeled against persuasion. "Time for

your rest, dearest!"

The rapt face looks up, breaks into sunshine, melts into entreaty. "Let

me finish this note, this page; then I will go!" Or it may be the sprite

that looks out of the gray eyes. "Get out!" she says. "Leave the room! I

never saw you before!"

Finally she submits to the indignity of being tucked in for her nap; but

even then her watch is beside her on the bed, ticking away the minutes

till the half-hour is over, and she springs to her task.

"_November 3. 241 Beacon Street._ My room here has been nicely cleaned,

but I bring into it a great heap of books and papers. I am going to try

_hard_ to be less disorderly than in the past."

How hard she did try, we well remember. The book trunk was a necessity

of the summer flitting. It carried a full load from one book-ridden

house to the other, and there were certain books--the four-volume Oxford

Bible, the big-print Horace, the Greek classics, shabby of dress,

splendid of type and margin--which could surely have found their way to

and from Newport unaided.

One book she never asked for--the English dictionary! Once Maud,

recently returned from Europe, apologized for having inadvertently taken

the dictionary from 241 Beacon Street.

"How dreadful it was of me to take your dictionary! What have you done?

Did you buy a new one?"

"I did not know you had taken it!"

"But--how did you get along without a dictionary?"

The elder looked her surprise.

"I never use a word whose meaning I do not know!"

"But the spelling?"

There was no answer to this, save a whimsical shrug of the shoulders.

"_November 11._ The day of the celebration of dear Chev's one hundredth

birthday. Before starting for the Temple I received three beautiful

gifts of flowers, a great bunch of white roses from Lizzie Agassiz, a

lovely bouquet of violets from Mrs. Frank Batcheller, and some superb

chrysanthemums from Mrs. George H. Perkins. The occasion was to me one

of solemn joy and thankfulness. Senator Hoar presided with beautiful

grace, preluding with some lovely reminiscences of Dr. Howe's visit to

his office in Worcester, Massachusetts, when he, Hoar, was a young

lawyer. Sanborn and Manatt excelled themselves, Humphreys did very well.

Hoar requested me to stand up and say a few words, which I did, he

introducing me in a very felicitous manner. I was glad to say my word,

for my heart was deeply touched. With me on the platform were my dear

children and Jack Hall and Julia Richards; Anagnos, of course; the music

very good."

Senator Hoar's words come back to us to-day, and we see his radiant

smile as he led her forward.

"It is only the older ones among us," he said, "who have seen Dr. Howe,

but there are hundreds here who will want to tell their children that

they have seen the author of the 'Battle Hymn of the Republic.'"

Part of her "word" was as follows:--

"We have listened to-day to very heroic memories; it almost took away

our breath to think that such things were done in the last century. I

feel very grateful to the pupils and graduates of the Perkins

Institution for the Blind who have planned this service in honor of my

husband. It is a story that should be told from age to age to show what

one good resolute believer in humanity was able to accomplish for the

benefit of his race.... The path by which he led Laura Bridgman to the

light has become one of the highways of education, and a number of

children similarly afflicted are following it, to their endless

enlargement and comfort. What an encouragement does this story give to

the undertaking of good deeds!

"I thank those who are with us to-day for their sympathy and attention.

I do this, not in the name of a handful of dust, dear and reverend as it

is, that now rests in Mount Auburn, but in the name of a great heart

which is with us to-day and which will still abide with those who work

in its spirit."

"_November 26. Thursday._ A day of pleasant agitation from beginning to

end. I tried to recognize in thought the many mercies of the year. My

fortunate recoveries from illness, the great pleasures of study,

friendly intercourse, thought and life generally. Our Thanksgiving

dinner was at about 1.30 P.M., and was embellished by the traditional

turkey, a fine one, to which David, Flossy, Maud, and I did justice. The

Richards girls, Julia and Betty, and Chug[135] and Jack Hall, flitted in

and out, full of preparation for the evening event, the marriage of my

dear Harry Hall to Alice Haskell. I found time to go over my screed for

Maynard very carefully, rewriting a little of it and mailing it in the

afternoon.

[135] Dr. Lawrence J. Henderson.

"In the late afternoon came Harry Hall and his best man, Tom McCready,

to dine here and dress for the ceremony. Maud improvised a pleasant

supper: we were eight at table. Went to the church in two carriages.

Bride looked very pretty, simple white satin dress and tulle veil. Six

bridesmaids in pink, carrying white chrysanthemums. H. M. H.[136] seemed

very boyish, but looked charmingly...."

[136] The bridegroom, Henry Marion Hall.

"_December 31._ The last day of a blessed year in which I have

experienced some physical suffering, but also many comforts and

satisfactions. I have had grippe and bronchitis in the winter and bad

malarial jaundice in the summer, but I have been constantly employed in

writing on themes of great interest and have had much of the society of

children and grandchildren. Of these last, two are happily married,

_i.e._, in great affection. My dear Maud and her husband have been with

me constantly, and I have had little or no sense of loneliness...."

The beginning of 1902 found her in better health than the previous year.

She records a luncheon with a distinguished company, at which all agreed

that "the 'Atlantic' to-day would not accept Milton's 'L' Allegro,' nor

would any other magazine."

At the Symphony Concert "the Tschaikowsky Symphony seemed to me to have

in it more noise than music. Felt that I am too old to enjoy new music."

"_January 24._ Suffrage and Anti-Suffrage at the State House. I went

there with all of my old interest in the Cause. The Antis were there in

force: Mrs. Charles Guild as their leader; Lawyer Russell as their

manager. I had to open. I felt so warm in my faith that for once I

thought I might convert our opponents. I said much less than I had

intended, as is usually the case with me when I speak _extempore_."

"_February 7...._ I went to see Leoni's wonderful illuminated

representation of leading events in our history; a very remarkable work,

and one which ought to remain in this country."

"_February 11._ Dreamed of an interview with a female pope. I had to go

to Alliance Meeting to speak about Wordsworth. I hunted up some verses

written about him in my early enthusiasm, probably in 1840 or 1841. This

I read and then told of my visit to him with Dr. Howe and the

unpleasantness of the experience. Spoke also of the reaction in England

against the morbid discontent which is so prominent and powerful in much

of Byron's poetry...."

"_February 12...._ In my dream of yesterday morning the woman pope and I

were on very friendly terms. I asked on leaving whether I might kiss her

hand. She said, 'You may kiss my hand.' I found it fat and far from

beautiful. As I left her, methought that her countenance relaxed and she

looked like a tired old woman. In my dream I thought, 'How like this is

to what Pope Leo would do.'"

"_February 13...._ Felt greatly discouraged at first waking. It seemed

impossible for me to make a first move under so many responsibilities. A

sudden light came into my soul at the thought that God will help me in

any good undertaking, and with this there came an inkling of first steps

to be taken with regard to Sig. Leoni's parchment.[137] I went to work

again on my prize poem, with better success than hitherto...."

[137] That is, to have it bought by some public society.

"_February 14._ Philosophy at Mrs. Bullard's.... Sent off my prize poem

with scarcely any hope of its obtaining or indeed deserving the prize,

but Mar[138] has promised to pay me something for it in any case, and I

was bound to try for the object, namely, a good civic poem...."

[138] An editor.

"_February 15...._ A day of great pleasure, profit and fatigue....

Griggs's lecture.... The address on 'Erasmus and Luther' was very

inspiring. Griggs is in the full tide of youthful inspiration and gives

himself to his audience without stint. He did not quite do justice to

the wonderful emancipation of thought which Protestantism has brought to

the world, but his illustration of the two characters was masterly. I

said afterwards to Fanny Ames: 'He will burn himself out.' She thinks

that he is wisely conservative of his physical strength. I said, 'He

bleeds at every pore.' I used to say this of myself with regard to

ordinary social life. Went to the Club, where was made to preside. Todd

and Todkinee[139] both spoke excellently. Then to Symphony Concert to

hear Kreisler and the 'Pastoral Symphony.'"

[139] Professor Todd, of Amherst, and his wife, Mabel Loomis Todd.

"_February 16...._ The Philosophy meeting and Griggs's lecture revived

in me the remembrance of my philosophic studies and attempts of

thirty-five years ago, and I determined to endeavor to revise them and

to publish them in some shape. Have thought a good deal this morning of

this cream of genius in which the fervent heat of youth fuses conviction

and imagination and gives the world its great masters and masterpieces.

It cannot outlast the length of human life of which it is the poetry.

Age follows it with slow philosophy, but can only strengthen the

outposts which youth has gained with daring flight. Both are divinely

ordained and most blessed. Of the dear Christ the world had only this

transcendent efflorescence. I said to Ames yesterday, 'I find in the

Hebrew prophets all the doctrine which I find in Christ's teaching.' He

said, 'Yes, it is there seminally.' We agreed that it was the life which

made the difference."

"_February 21_.... My dearest Maud left by 1 P.M. train to sail for

Europe to-morrow. I could not go to the hearing. Was on hand to think of

small details which might have been overlooked. Gave them my fountain

pen, to Jack's great pleasure. Julia Richards came to take care of me. I

suffered extreme depression in coming back to the empty house, every

corner of which is so identified with Maud's sweet and powerful

presence. The pain of losing her, even for a short time, seemed

intolerable. I was better in the evening. Chug amused me with a game of

picquet."

Her spirits soon rallied, and the granddaughters did their best to fill

the great void. She writes to Laura about this time:--

Not a sign was made, not a note was wrote,

Not a telegram was wired,

Not a rooster sent up his warning note,

When the eggs from your larder were fired.

We swallow them darkly at break of fast,

Each one to the other winking,

And "woe is me if this be the last"

Is what we are sadly thinking.

The egg on missile errand sent

Some time has been maturing,

And, with whate'er endearment blent,

Is rarely reassuring.

But yours, which in their freshness came

Just when they might be wanted,

A message brought without a name,

"Love," we will take for granted. [_Copyrighted._]

Julia is rather strict with me, but very good, considering whose

grandchild she is.

Affect.,

MOTHER.

"_March 25._ I received in one day three notes asking me regarding the

'Life of Margaret Shepard,' and 'Secret Confessions of a Priest.' One

writer had seen in some paper that she could have the books by applying

to me; Miss ---- wrote to the same intent; Miss ---- wrote and enclosed

forty cents' worth of stamps for one of the books. I have replied to all

that I know nothing of the books in question, and that I am neither

agent nor bookseller."

"_March 30._ Lunch with Mrs. Fields after church. Heard a very inspiring

sermon from Samuel A. Eliot. This young man has a very noble bearing and

a stringent way of presenting truth. He has that vital religious power

which is rare and most precious. Before he had spoken I had been asking

in my mind, how can we make the _past present to us_? The Easter service

and Lent also seem intended to do this, but our imaginations droop and

lag behind our desires...."

"_April 2._... Went in the evening to see 'Ben-Hur' with kind Sarah

Jewett--her treat, as was my attendance at the opera. The play was

altogether spectacular, but very good in that line...."

"_April 3._... Went to the celebration of E. E. Hale's eightieth

birthday, in which the community largely participated. Senator Hoar was

the orator and spoke finely.... Hale's response was manly, cheery, and

devout. He has certainly done much good work, and has suggested many

good things."

"_April 12._ Lunch with Mrs. Wheelwright. I found Agnes Repplier very

agreeable. She had known the wife of Green, the historian, 'very, almost

too brilliant.' Told me something about his life. I enjoyed meeting

her."

_To Laura_

Yes, I likes my chilluns better 'n other folkses' chilluns. P'raps 'tis

as well sometimes to let them know that I do....

What you write about my little Memoir of your dear Papa touches me a

good deal. I did my best to make it as satisfactory as the limits

imposed upon me would allow. I don't think that I ever had a word of

commendation for it. Michael killed it as a book by printing it entire

in his Report for the year. Now I am much gratified by your notice of

it. You are most welcome to use it in connection with the letters.[140]

[140] Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe.

"_May 16._ In the evening the Italian supper at the Hotel Piscopo, North

End. I recited Goldoni's toast from the 'Locandiera,' and also made a

little speech at the end of the banquet. Padre Roberto, a Venetian

priest, young and handsome, sat near me...."

"_May 18_.... I had prayed that this might be a real Whitsunday to me

and I felt that it was. Notice was given of a meeting at which Catholic,

Jew, Episcopalian, and Unitarian are to speak regarding the Filipinos.

This seemed like the Millennium. It is the enlargement of religious

sympathy; not, as some may think, the progress of critical

indifferentism.

"During this morning's service my desire to speak to prisoners

reasserted itself strongly; also my thought of one of my sermons which I

wish to write. One should be to the text: 'The glory of God in the face

of Jesus Christ,' the reflection of divine glory in God's saints, like

the reflection of the sun's light in the planets. Another about Adam

being placed in Eden to tend the flowers and water them. This should

concern our office in the land of our birth, into which we are born to

love and serve our country. Will speak of the self-banished Americans,

Hale's 'Man without a Country,' etc. This day has been so full of

thought and suggestion that I hardly know how to let it go. I pray that

it may bear some fruit in my life, what is left of it."

"_May 24._ The annual Club luncheon in honor of my birthday. I felt

almost overwhelmed by the great attention shown me and by the constant

talk of speakers with reference to myself.... I don't find in myself

this charm, this goodness, attributed to me by such speakers, but I know

that I love the Club and love the world of my own time, so far as I know

it. They called me Queen and kissed my hand. When I came home I fell in

spirit before the feet of the dear God, thanking Him for the regard

shown me, and praying that it might not for one moment make me vain. I

read my translation of Horace's ode, 'Quis Desiderio,' and it really

seemed to suit the mention made by Mrs. Cheney of our departed members,

_praecipuë_, Dr. Zack; Dr. Hoder [?] of England was there, and

ex-Governor Long and T. W. Higginson, also Agnes Irwin. It was a great

time."

"_July 5_.... I wrote to Ethel V. Partridge, Omaha, a high-school

student: 'Get all the education that you can. Cultivate habits of

studious thought with all that books can teach. The fulfilment of the

nearest duty gives the best education.' I fear that I have come to know

this by doing the exact opposite, _i.e._, neglecting much of the nearest

duty in the pursuit of an intellectual wisdom which I have not

attained...."

Maud and Florence were both away in the early part of this summer, and

various grandchildren kept her company at Oak Glen. There were other

visitors, among them Count Salome di Campello, a cheery guest who cooked

spaghetti for her, and helped the granddaughter to set off the Fourth of

July fireworks, to her equal pleasure and terror. During his visit she

invited the Italian Ambassador[141] to spend a couple of days at Oak

Glen. On July 14 she writes:--

[141] Count Mayer des Planches.

"Not having heard from the Italian Ambassador, the Count and I supposed

that he was not coming. In the late afternoon came a letter saying that

he would arrive to-morrow. We were troubled at this late intelligence,

which gave me no time to invite people to meet the guest. I lay down for

my afternoon rest with a very uneasy mind. Remembering St. Paul's words

about 'Angels unawares,' I felt comforted, thinking that the Angel of

Hospitality would certainly visit me, whether the guest proved congenial

or not."

"_July 15_.... The Ambassador arrived as previously announced. He proved

a most genial and charming person; a man still in the prime of life,

with exquisite manners, as much at home in our simplicity as he

doubtless is in scenes of luxury and magnificence. Daisy Chanler drove

out for afternoon tea, at my request, and made herself charming. After

her came Emily Ladenberg, who also made a pleasing impression. Our guest

played on the piano and joined in our evening whist. We were all

delighted with him."

After the Ambassador's departure she writes:--

"He gave me an interesting account of King Charles Albert of Savoia. He

is a man of powerful temperament, which we all felt; has had to do with

Bismarck and Salisbury and all the great European politicians of his

time. We were all sorry to see him depart."

The Journal tells of many pleasures, among them "a delightful morning in

the green parlor with Margaret Deland and dear Maud."

On August 24 she writes:--

"This day has been devoted to a family function of great interest,

namely, the christening of Daisy and Wintie's boy baby, Theodore Ward,

the President[142] himself standing godfather. Jack Elliott and I were

on hand in good time, both of us in our best attire. We found a very

chosen company, the Sydney Websters, Owen Wister, Senator Lodge and

wife, the latter standing as godmother. Mr. Diman, of the School,[143]

officiated, Parson Stone being ill. The President made his response

quite audibly. The Chanler children looked lovely, and the baby as dear

as a baby can look. His godfather gave him a beautiful silver bowl lined

with gold. I gave a silver porringer, Maud a rattle with silver bells;

lunch followed. President Roosevelt took me in to the table and seated

me on his right. This was a very distinguished honor. The conversation

was rather literary. The President admires Emerson's poems, and also

Longfellow and Sienkiewicz. He paid me the compliment of saying that

Kipling alone had understood the meaning of my 'Battle Hymn,' and that

he admired him therefor. Wister proposed the baby's health, and I

recited a quatrain which came to me early this morning. Here it is:--

"Roses are the gift of God,

Laurels are the gift of fame;

Add the beauty of thy life

To the glory of thy name."

[142] Theodore Roosevelt.

[143] St. George's, Newport.

"I said, 'Two lines for the President and two for the baby'; the two

first naturally for the President. As I sat waiting for the ceremony, I

called the dear roll of memory, Uncle Sam and so on back to Grandpa

Ward. I was very thankful to participate in this beautiful occasion. But

the service and talk about the baby's being born in sin, etc., etc.,

seemed to me very inconsistent with Christ's saying that he who would

enter into the Kingdom of Heaven must become 'as a little child.' He

also said, 'of such is the kingdom of heaven.'"

She had a high admiration for Colonel Roosevelt, and a regard so warm

that she would never allow any adverse criticism of him in her presence.

The following verses express this feeling:--

Here's to Teddy,

Blythe and ready,

Fit for each occasion!

Who as he

Acceptably

Can represent the Nation?

Neither ocean

Binds his motion,

Undismayed explorer;

Challenge dares him,

Pullman bears him

Swifter than Aurora.

Here's to Teddy!

Let no eddy

Block the onward current.

Him we trust,

And guard we must

From schemes to sight abhorrent.

When the tuba

Called to Cuba

Where the fight was raging,

Rough and ready

Riders led he,

Valorous warfare waging.

Here's to Teddy!

Safe and steady,

Loved by every section!

South and North

Will hurry forth

To hasten his election.

1904.

On September 12, a notice of the death of William Allen Butler is pasted

in the Diary. Below it she writes:--

"A pleasant man. I met him at the Hazeltines' in Rome in 1898 and 1899.

His poem ["Nothing to Wear"] was claimed by one or two people. I met his

father [a Cabinet Minister] at a dinner at the Bancrofts' in New York,

at which ex-President Van Buren was also present, and W. M. Thackeray,

who said to me across the table that Browning's 'How They Brought the

Good News' was a 'good jingle.'"

On the 29th she spoke at a meeting of the New England Woman's Club in

memory of Dr. Zakrzewska, and records her final words:--

"I pray God earnestly that we women may never go back from the ground

which has been gained for us by our noble pioneers and leaders. I pray

that these bright stars of merit, set in our human firmament, may shine

upon us and lead us to better and better love and service for God and

man."

"In the afternoon, to hear reports of delegates to Biennial at Los

Angeles. These were very interesting, but the activity shown made me

feel my age, and its one great infirmity, loss of power of locomotion. I

felt somehow the truth of the line which Mr. Robert C. Winthrop once

quoted to me:--

"'Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage.'"

Yet a few days later she writes:--

"I had this morning so strong a feeling of the goodness of the divine

Parent in the experience of my life, especially of its most trying

period, that I had to cry out, 'What shall I, who have received so much,

give in return?' I felt that I must only show that forbearance and

forgiveness to others which the ever blessed One has shown to me. My own

family does not call for this. I am cherished by its members with great

tenderness and regard. I thought later in the day of a sermon to

prisoners which would brighten their thoughts of the love of God. Text

from St. John's Epistle, 'Behold what manner of love is this that we

should be called the sons of God.'"

* * * * *

This was the year of the coal strike in Pennsylvania, which made much

trouble in Boston. She notes one Sunday that service at the Church of

the Disciples was held in the church parlors "on account of the shortage

of coal." This recalls vivid pictures of the time; distracted coal

merchants dealing out promises, with nothing else to deal; portly

magnates and stately dames driving down Beacon Street in triumph with

coals in a paper bag to replenish the parlor fire: darker pictures, too,

of poverty and suffering.

At 241 Beacon Street the supply was running low, and the coal dealer was

summoned by telephone. "A load of coal? Impossible, madam! We have no--I

beg your pardon! Mrs. Julia Ward Howe? _Mrs. Howe's house is cold?_ You

shall have some within the hour!"

CHAPTER XIII

LOOKING TOWARD SUNSET

1903-1905; _aet._ 84-86

IN MUSIC HALL

_Looking down upon the white heads of my contemporaries_

Beneath what mound of snow

Are hid my springtime roses?

How shall Remembrance know

Where buried Hope reposes?

In what forgetful heart

As in a cañon darkling,

Slumbers the blissful art

That set my heaven sparkling?

What sense shall never know,

Soul shall remember;

Roses beneath the snow,

June in November.

J. W. H.

The year 1903 began with the celebration at Faneuil Hall of the fortieth

anniversary of Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation. She was one of the

speakers. "I felt much the spirit of the occasion, and spoke, I thought,

better than usual, going back to the heroic times before and during the

war, and to the first celebration forty years ago, at which I was

present."

Work of all kinds poured in, the usual steady stream.

"_January 6._ Wrote a new circular for Countess."

Who the Countess was, or what the circular was about, is not known. By

this time it had become the custom (or so it seemed to exasperated

daughters and granddaughters) for any one who wanted anything in the

literary line, from a proverb to a pamphlet, to ask her for it.

It is remembered how on a certain evening, when she was resting after a

weary day, a "special delivery" note was received from a person whom she

scarcely knew, asking for "her thoughts on the personality of God, by

return mail." This was one of the few requests she ever denied. People

asked her to give them material for their club papers (sometimes to

write them!), to put them through college, to read their manuscripts, to

pay the funeral expenses of their relatives. A volume of the letters

conveying these requests would be curious reading.

The petition for a "little verse" was rarely refused. Her notebooks are

full of occasional poems, only a small proportion of which ever appeared

in print. Many of them are "autographs." She always meant to honor every

request of this kind; the country must be full of volumes inscribed by

her. Here are a few of them.

_For Francis C. Stokes, Westtown School, Pennsylvania_

Auspicious be the rule

Of love at Westtown School,

And happy, mid his youthful folks

The daily task of Master Stokes!

[When this gentleman's note came, she was "tired to death." The

granddaughter said, "You _can't_ do it. Let me write a friendly note,

and you shall sign it!"

"You're right," she said, "I can't: I am too tired to think!" But when

she saw the note taken away, "No, no!" she cried, "I can! He is probably

a most hard-working man, and a little word may cheer him. Here, I have

a line already!"]

Wealth is good, health is better, character is best.

Citizens of the new world,

Children of the promise,

So let us live!

Love to learn, and learn to love.

Remember to forget your troubles, but don't forget to remember your

blessings.

For Mr. Charles Gallup, who had written to her several times without

receiving a reply, she wrote--

If one by name Gallup

Desires to wallop

A friend who too slowly responds,

She will plead that her age

Has attained such a stage

She is held hand and foot in its bonds.

Here, again, are a few sentences, gathered from various calendars.

The little girls on the school bench, using or misusing their

weekly allowance, are learning to build their future house, or

pluck it down.

No gift can make rich those who are poor in wisdom.

In whatever you may undertake, never sacrifice quality for

quantity, even when quantity pays and quality does not.

For so long, the body can perform its functions and hold together,

but what term is set for the soul? Nothing in its make-up

foretokens a limited existence. Its sentence would seem to be,

"Once and always."

The verses in the notebooks are by no means all "by request." The

rhyming fit might seize her anywhere, at any time. She wrote the rough

draft on whatever was at hand, often on the back of note, circular, or

newspaper wrapper. She could never forget the war-time days when paper

cost half a dollar a pound.

Nor were people content with writing: they came singly, in pairs, in

groups, to proffer requests, to pay respects, to ask counsel. The only

people she met unwillingly were those who came to bewail their lot and

demand her sympathy.

No one will ever know the number of her benefactions. They were mostly,

of necessity, small, yet we must think they went a long way. At the New

England Woman's Club, whenever a good new cause came up, she would say,

"I will start the subscription with a dollar!" Many noble and enduring

things began with the "President's dollar." If she had had a hundred

dollars to give, it would have been joyfully given: if she had had but

ten cents, it would not have been withheld. She had none of the false

pride which shrinks from giving a small sum.

Beggars and tramps were tenderly dealt with. A discharged criminal in

particular must never be refused help. Work must be found for him if

possible; if not, it is to be feared that he got a dollar, "to help him

find work"!

"_January 10._ At 11.30 received message from 'New York World' that it

would pay for an article sent at once on 'Gambling among Society

People.' Wrote this in a little more than an hour."

"_January 20...._ Some little agitation about my appearance at the

Artists' Festival to-night, as one of the patronesses. I had already a

white woollen dress quite suitable for the prescribed costume. Some

benevolent person or persons ordered for me and sent a cloak of fine

white cloth, beautiful to look at but heavy to wear. A headdress was

improvised out of one of my Breton caps, with a long veil of lawn. Jack

Elliott made me a lovely coronet out of a bit of gold braid with one

jewel of dear Maud's. Arriving, to my surprise, I found the Queen's

chair waiting for me. I sat thereon very still, the other patronesses

being most kind and cordial, and saw the motley throng and the curious

pageants. Costumes most beautiful, but the hall too small for much

individual effect. Adèle Thayer wore the famous Thayer diamonds."

"_January 27._ Woke early and began to worry about the hearing....

Dressed with more care than usual and went betimes to State House. Had a

good deliverance of my paper. The opposition harped upon our bill as an

effort to obtain class legislation, saying also that they knew it to be

an entering wedge to obtain suffrage for all women; the two positions

being evidently irreconcilable. When our turn for rebuttal came, I said:

'Many years ago John Quincy Adams presented in Congress a petition for

the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, but none of the

Southerners imagined that this petition was intended to keep the other

negroes of the South in slavery! Are we, who, for thirty years past, and

more, have been coming here to ask for full suffrage for all women, to

be accused of coming here now with a view to the exclusion of our former

clients from suffrage? How can we be said to contemplate this and at the

same time to be putting in an entering wedge for universal suffrage?'

"I thank God for what I did say at the hearing and for what I did not

say. Two of the opposing speakers were rude in their remarks; all were

absurd, hunting an issue which they knew to be false, namely, our

seeking for class legislation."

"_January 28._ Although very tired after yesterday's meeting, I went in

the evening to see 'Julius Cæsar' in Richard Mansfield's interpretation.

The play was beautifully staged; Mansfield very good in the tent scene;

parts generally well filled...."

"_March 3._ My dear Maud returned this evening from New York. She has

been asked to speak at to-morrow's suffrage hearing. I advised her to

reflect before embarking upon this new voyage.... When she told me what

she had in mind to say, I felt that a real word had been given her. I

said: 'Go and say that!'..."

"_April 1...._ A telegram announced the birth of my first

great-grandchild, Harry Hall's infant daughter.[144]..."

[144] Julia Ward Howe Hall.

"_April 11._ To Mrs. Bigelow Lawrence's, Parker House, to hear music.

Mrs. [Henry] Whitman called for me.

"Delightful music; two quartettes of Beethoven's, a quintette of

Mozart's, which I heard at Joseph Coolidge's some thirty or more years

ago. I recognized it by the first movement, which Bellini borrowed in a

sextette which I studied in my youth from 'La Straniera,' an opera never

given in these days...."

"_April 17._ Winchendon lecture.... A day of anguish for me. I was

about to start for Winchendon when my dearest Maud so earnestly besought

me not to go, the weather being very threatening, that I _could not_

deny her. Words can hardly say how I suffered in giving up the trip and

disappointing so many people.... As I lay taking my afternoon rest, my

heart said to God, 'You cannot help me in this'; but He did help me, for

I was able soon after this to interest myself in things at hand. I heard

Mabilleau's lecture on French art in its recent departure. It was

brilliant and forcibly stated, but disappointing. He quoted with

admiration Baudelaire's hideous poem, 'Un Carogne.'..."

"_April 21._ In the afternoon attended anniversary of the Blind

Kindergarten, where I made, as usual, a brief address, beginning with

'God said, Let there be light,' a sentence which makes itself felt

throughout the human domain, where great-hearted men are stirred by it

to combat the spirits of darkness. Spoke also of the culture of the

blind as vindicating the dignity of the human mind, which can become a

value and a power despite the loss of outward sense. Alluded to dear

Chev's sense of this and his resolve that the blind, from being simply a

burden, should become of value to the community. The care of them draws

forth tender sympathy in those whose office it is to cherish and

instruct them. Spoke of the nursery as one of the dearest of human

institutions. Commended the little blind nursery to the affectionate

regard of seeing people. The children did exceedingly well, especially

the orchestra. The little blind 'cellist was remarkable."

"_May 2._ Dreamed last night that I was dead and kept saying, 'I found

it out immediately,' to those around me...."

"_May 28._ My prayer for the new year of my life beginning to-day is,

that in some work that I shall undertake I may help to make clear the

goodness of God to some who need to know more of it than they do...."

"_June 22._ Mabel Loomis Todd wrote asking me for a word to enclose in

the corner-stone of the new observatory building at Amherst

[Massachusetts]. I have just sent her the following:--

"The stars against the tyrant fought

In famous days of old;

The stars in freedom's banner wrought

Shall the wide earth enfold."

"_June 23._ Kept within doors by the damp weather. Read in William

James's book, 'Varieties of Religious Experience.'... Had a strange

fatigue--a restlessness in my brain."

"_June 25...._ The James book which I finished yesterday left in my mind

a painful impression of doubt; a God who should be only my better self,

or an impersonal pervading influence. These were suggestions which left

me very lonely and forlorn. To-day, as I thought it all over, the God of

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob seemed to come back to me; the God of Christ,

and his saints and martyrs. I said to myself: 'Let me be steeped in the

devotion of the Psalms, and of Paul's Epistles!' I took up Coquerel's

sermons on the Lord's Prayer, simple, beautiful, positive...."

"_July 30._ _Oak Glen._ Rose at 6.15 A.M. and had good luck in dressing

quickly. With dear Flossy took 9 A.M. train for Boston. At Middletown

station found the teachers from the West [Denver and Iowa], who started

the 'Battle Hymn' when they saw me approaching. This seemed to me

charming. My man Michael, recognizing the tune, said: 'Mrs. Howe, this

is a send-off for you!'..."

She was going to keep a lecture engagement in Concord, Massachusetts;

her theme, "A Century from the Birth of Emerson." She was anxious about

this paper, and told Mr. Sanborn (the inevitable reporter calling to

borrow her manuscript) that she thought the less said about the address

the better. "I have tried very hard to say the right thing, but doubt

whether I have succeeded." Spite of these doubts, the lecture was

received with enthusiasm.

"_September 6._ I was very dull at waking and dreaded the drive to

church and the stay to Communion. The drive partly dissipated my

'megrims'; every bright object seemed to me to praise God.... The

Communion service was very comforting. Especially did Christ's words

come to me, 'Abide in me,' etc. I felt that if I would abide in Him, old

as I am, I could still do some good work. 'Yes! my strong friend,' my

heart said, 'I will abide in thee,' and a bit of the old Easter anthem

came back to me, 'He sitteth at the right hand of God, in the glory of

the Father.' No, it is a verse of the _Te Deum_."

In October a lecture in South Berwick gave her the opportunity, always

greatly enjoyed, of a visit to Sarah Orne Jewett and her sister Mary.

"_November 1._ _South Berwick._ A delightful drive. Mary Jewett, Annie

Fields, and I to visit Mrs. Tyson in the Hamilton House described by

Sarah in her 'Tory Lover.'... Most interesting. Mrs. Tyson very cordial

and delightful.... She came over later to dinner and we had such a

pleasant time! In afternoon copied most of my screed for the 'Boston

Globe.'"

It surely was not on this occasion that she described dinner as "a thing

of courses and remorses!"

"_November 2._ Took reluctant leave of the Jewett house and the trio,

Sarah, Mary, and Annie Fields. We had a wonderful dish of pigeons for

lunch...."

It was delightful to see our mother and Miss Jewett together. They were

the best of playmates, having a lovely intimacy of understanding. Their

talk rippled with light and laughter. Such stories as they told! such

songs as they sang! who that heard will ever forget our mother's story

of Edward Everett in his youth? He was to take three young ladies to

drive, and had but the one horse; he wished to please them all equally.

To the first he said, "The horse is perfectly fresh now; you have him in

his best condition." To the second he said, "The horse was a little

antic at first, so you will have the safer drive." To the third he said,

"Now that the other two have had their turn, we need not hasten back.

You can have the longest drive."

It is recalled that during this visit, when Laura felt bound to

remonstrate in the matter of fruitcake, "Sarah" took sides with ardor.

"You shall have all you want, Mrs. Howe, and a good big piece to take

home besides! Put it somewhere where the girls can't find it!"

She nodded. "There is a corner in my closet, which even Maud dare not

explore!"

The fruitcake was duly packed, transported, and eaten--we are bound to

say without ill effect.

This recalls the day when, leaving Gardiner, she was presented with a

packet of sandwiches, and charged to have the Pullman porter bring her a

cup of bouillon. The next day Laura received a postal card.

"Lunched at Portland on mince pie, which agreed with me excellently,

thank you!"

Her postal cards were better than most people's letters. You could

almost see them sparkle. The signature would be "Town Pump" or something

equally luminous. In fact, she so rarely signed her own name in writing

to us that when asked for autographs we were posed. "Town Pump" was no

autograph for the author of the "Battle Hymn"!

There was another mince pie, a little, pretty one, which she saw at a

Papéterie meeting, the last summer of her life; saw, coveted, secreted,

with her hostess's aid, and smuggled home. Always a moderate eater, she

never could be made to see that age demanded a careful diet. "I have

eaten sausages all my life," she would say. "They have always agreed

with me perfectly!" Indeed, till the very latest years, her digestion

had never failed her. It was in the eighties that she said to one of us,

"I have a singular sensation that I have never felt before. Do you think

it might possibly be indigestion?" She described it, and it _was_

indigestion. We are reminded of a contemporary of hers who, being

gently rebuked for giving rich food to a delicate grandchild, replied

with lofty scorn, "Stuff and nonsense! _Teach his stomach!_"

"_November 8...._ In late afternoon some visioning, _i.e._, lying down

to rest and asking and answering questions in my mind:--

"Question: Can anything exceed the delight of the first mutual

understanding of two lovers?

"Answer: This has its sacredness and its place, but even better is the

large affection which embraces things human and divine, God and man.

"Question: Are Saviour and Saints alive now?

"Answer: If you believe that God is just, they must be. They gave all

for His truth: He owes them immortality."

"_November 16._ Dear Auntie Francis's wedding day. I think it was in

1828. My sisters and I were bridesmaids, my brothers groomsmen. Dear

father, very lame, walked up with a cane to give her away. Grandma

Cutler looked much discontented with the match. Father sent the pair off

in his own carriage, with four horses, their manes and tails braided

with white ribbons. They drove part of the way to Philadelphia."

"_November 28...._ To Wellesley College.... William Butler Yeats

lectured on the revival of letters in Ireland. We dined with him

afterwards at Miss Hazard's house. He is a man of fiery temperament,

with a slight, boyish figure: has deep-set blue eyes and dark hair;

reminds me of John O'Sullivan[145] in his temperament; is certainly, as

Grandpa Ward said of the Red Revolutionists, with whom he dined in the

days of the French Revolution, 'very warm.'"

[145] Hawthorne's friend of the _Democratic Review_.

"_November 29...._ This came into my mind, apropos of reformers

generally: 'Dost thou so carry thy light as to throw it upon _thyself_,

or upon thy _theme_?' This appears to me a legitimate question...."

"_December 21._ Put the last touches to my verses for Colonel

Higginson's eightieth birthday. Maud went with me to the celebration

held by the Boston Authors' Club at the Colonial Club, Cambridge. T. W.

H. seemed in excellent condition; I presided as usual. Bliss Perry,

first speaker, came rather late, but made a very good address. Crothers

and Dean Hodges followed, also Clement. Judge Grant read a simple,

strong poem, _very good_, I thought. Then came my jingle, intended to

relieve the strain of the occasion, which I think it did. Maud says that

I hit the bull's eye; perhaps I did. Then came a pretty invasion of

mummers, bearing the gifts of the Club, a fine gold watch and a handsome

bronze lamp. I presented these without much talk, having said my say in

the verses, to which, by the bye, Colonel H. responded with some comic

personal couplets, addressed to myself."

Here is the "jingle."

Friends! I would not ask to mingle

This, my very foolish jingle,

With the tributes more decorous of the feast we hold to-day;

But the rhymes came, thick and swarming

Just like bees when honey's forming,

And I could not find a countersign to order them away.

For around this sixteenth lustre

Of our friend's, such memories cluster

Of the days that lie behind it, full of glories and regrets,

Days that brought their toils and troubles,

Lit by some irradiant bubbles

Which became prismatic opals in the sun that never sets.

Picnics have we held together

Sailing in the summer weather,

Sitting low to taste the chowder on the sands of Newport Bay,

And that wonderful charade, sir,

You know well, sir, that you made, sir,

When so many years of earnest did invite an hour of play.

* * * * *

He shall rank now with the sages

Who survive in classic pages,

English, German, French and Latin, Greek, so weary to construe;

Did he con his Epictetus

Ere he came to-night to greet us?

He, _àoristos_ in reverence, among the learned few.

He may climb no more the mountain,

But he still employs the fountain

Pen from whose incisive point pure Helicon may flow,

And his "Yesterdays" so cheerful

Charm the world so wild and tearful,

And the Devil calls for copy, and he never answers "No."

Do I speak for everybody,

When I utter this rhapsòdy,

To induce our friend to keep his pace in following Life's incline;

Never slacken, but come on, sir,

Eighty-four years I have won, sir;

Still the olive branch shall bless you, still the laurel wreath entwine!

So, you scribbling youths and lasses,

Elders, too, fill high your glasses!

Let the toast be Wentworth Higginson, of fourscore years possest;

If the Man was good at twenty,

He is four times that now, ain't he?

We declare him four times excellent, and better than his best.

The early days of 1904 brought "a very severe blizzard. Sent tea to the

hackmen on Dartmouth Street corner."

She never forgot the hackmen in severe weather.

"They _must_ have something hot!" and tea or coffee would be despatched

to the shivering men. They were all her friends; the Journal has many

allusions to "Mr. Dan" Herlihy, the owner of the cab stand, her faithful

helper through many a season.

"_January 27, 1904._ I was so anxious to attend to-day's [suffrage]

meeting, and so afraid of Maud's opposition to my going, that my one

prayer this morning was, 'Help me.' To my utter surprise she did not

oppose, but went with me and remained until our part of the hearing was

finished, when she carried me off. I read my little screed, written

yesterday. When I said, 'Intelligence has no sex, no, gentlemen, nor

folly either!' laughter resounded, as I meant it should...."

"_March 6._ In the evening to hear 'Elijah' finely given. Some of the

music brought back to me the desolate scenery of Palestine. It is a very

beautiful composition.... The alto was frightened at first, coming out

stronger in 'Woe unto them,' and better still in 'Oh, rest in the Lord.'

The audience seemed to me sleepy and cold. I really led the applause for

the alto."

"_March 13._... Wrote to John A. Beal, of Beal's Island, offering to

send instructive literature to that benighted region, where three

mountebanks, pretending to teach religion, robbed the simple people and

excited them to acts of frenzy."

"_March 17._ Mrs. Allen's funeral.... I had a momentary mental vision

of myself in the Valley of the Shadow, with a splendid champion in full

armor walking beside me, a champion sent by God to make the dread

passage easy and safe...."

"_April 2...._ Learned the deaths of X. and Abby Morton Diaz. Poor X.,

her conduct made her impossible, but I always thought she would send

flowers to my funeral. Mrs. Diaz is a loss--a high-strung,

public-spirited woman with an heroic history."

"_April 4._ To the carriage-drivers' ball. They sent a carriage for me

and I took Mary, the maid.... Mr. Dan was waiting outside for me, as was

another of the committee who troubled me much, pulling and hauling me by

one arm, very superfluous. My entrance was greeted with applause, and I

was led to the high seats, where were two aides of the Governor, Dewey

and White, the latter of whom remembers Governor Andrew. The opening

march was very good. I was taken in to supper, as were the two officers

just mentioned. We had a cozy little talk. I came away at about 10.30."

"_April 14._ Mr. Butcher came to breakfast at nine o'clock. He told me

about the man Toynbee, whom he had known well. He talked also about

Greeks and Hebrews, the animosity of race which kept them apart until

the flourishing of the Alexandrian school, when the Jews greedily

absorbed the philosophy of the Greeks."

This was Mr. S. H. Butcher, the well-known Greek scholar. She enjoyed

his visit greatly, and they talked "high and disposedly" of things

classical and modern.

"_May 28._ My meeting of Women Ministers. They gathered very slowly and

I feared that it would prove a failure, but soon we had a good number.

Mary Graves helped me very much.... Afterwards I felt a _malignant_

fatigue and depression, not caring to do anything."

In June she received the first of her collegiate honors, the degree of

Doctor of Laws, conferred by Tufts College. This gratified her deeply,

and she describes the occasion at length, noting that she was "favored

with the Tufts yell twice."

"Lawrence Evans came, and Harry Hall.... I read the part of my speech

about which I had hesitated, about our trying to put an end to the

Turkish horrors. It was the best of the speech. Seeking divine aid

before I made my remarks, I suddenly said to myself, 'Christ, _my

brother_!' I never _felt_ it before."

"_June 16._ Maud would not allow me to attend Quincy Mansion School

Commencement, to my sincere regret. The fatigue of yesterday was

excessive, and my dear child knew that another such occasion would be

likely to make me ill. Charles G. Ames came, from whom I first learned

the death of Mrs. Cheney's sister, Mary Frank Littlehale; the funeral

set for to-day.... Dear E. D. C. seemed gratified at seeing me and asked

me to say a few words.... She thanked me very earnestly for what I had

said, and I at last understood why I had not been allowed to go to

Quincy. It was more important that I should comfort for a moment the

bruised heart of my dear friend than that I should be a guest at the

Quincy Commencement."

"_June 29._ Heard to my sorrow of the death of delightful Sarah Whitman.

Wrote a little screed for 'Woman's Journal' which I sent...."

In early July, she went to Concord for a memorial meeting in honor of

Nathaniel Hawthorne.

"_July 11...._ Alice Blackwell, some days ago, wrote beseeching me to

write to President Roosevelt, begging him to do something for the

Armenians. I said to myself, 'No, I won't; I am too tired and have done

enough.' Yesterday's sermon gave me a spur, and this morning I have writ

the President a long letter, to the effect desired. God grant that it

may have some result!"

"_July 17._ I despaired of being able to write a poem as requested for

the Kansas semi-centennial celebration in October, but one line came to

me: 'Sing us a song of the grand old time!' and the rest followed...."

This poem is printed in "At Sunset."

"_July 21._ Writ ... to Mrs. Martha J. Hosmer, of Rock Point, Oregon,

who wrote me a kindly meant letter, exhorting me to 'seek the truth and

live,' and to write to a Mrs. Helen Wilman, eighty-five years old and

the possessor of some wonderful knowledge which will help me to renew my

youth...."

"_September 25._ I could not go to church to-day, fearing to increase my

cold, and not wishing to leave my dear family, so rarely united now.

Have been reading Abbé Loisy's 'Autour d'un petit Livre,' which is an

apologetic vindication of his work 'L'Évangile et l'Église,' which has

been put upon the Index [Expurgatorius]. I feel sensibly all differences

between his apologetic _wobbly_ vindication of the Church of Rome, and

the sound and firm faith of Thomas Hill."

"_October 2._ Mr. Fitzhugh Whitehouse, having left here a copy of my

'From Sunset Ridge' for me to furnish with a 'sentiment,' I indited the

following:--

From Sunset Ridge we view the evening sky,

Blood red and gold, defeat and victory;

If in the contest we have failed or won,

'Twas ours to live, to strive and so pass on."

"_October 5...._ To Peace Congress, where Albert Smiley was presiding. A

wonderful feature came in the person of a Hindu religionist, who came to

plead the cause of the Thibetan Llama. He said that the Thibetans are

not fighting people: are devoted to religious contemplation, prayer, and

spiritual life. He spoke valorously of the religions in the East as by

far the most ancient. 'You call us heathen, but we don't call you

heathen'; a good point. He concluded by giving to the assemblage a

benediction in the fashion of his own religion. It was chanted in a

sweet, slightly musical strain, ending with the repetition of a word

which he said meant 'peace.' So much was said about peace that I had to

ask leave for a word, and spoke of justice as that without which peace

cannot be had.... I said:--

'Mr. President and dear friends, assembled in the blessed cause of

Peace, let me remind you that there is one word even more holy than

peace, namely, justice. It is anterior in our intellectual perceptions.

The impulse which causes men to contend against _in_justice is a divine

one, deeply implanted in the human breast. It would be wrong to attempt

to thwart it. I hope that The Hague Tribunal will bear in mind that it

is sacredly pledged to maintain justice. The brightest intellects, the

most profound study, should be devoted to the promotion of this end.'

The Greek bishop met me in the ante-room and said, 'We always pray for

you.'..."

"_October 9._ I have felt more strongly than ever of late that God is

the only comforter.... These great serious things were always present to

work for in days in which I exerted myself to amuse others and myself

too. It is quite true that I have never given up serious thought and

study, but I have not made the serious use of my powers which I ought to

have made. The Peace Congress has left upon my mind a strong impression

of what the lovers of humanity could accomplish if they were all and

always in earnest. I seem to hope for a fresh consecration, for

opportunities truly to serve, and for the continuance of that gift of

the word which is sometimes granted me."

"_November 12._ I to attend meeting of Council of Jewish Women; say

something regarding education....

"I was warmly received and welcomed, and recited my 'Battle Hymn' by

special request. This last gave me an unexpected thrill of satisfaction.

The president said: 'Dear Mrs. Howe, there is nothing in it to wound

us.' I had feared that the last verse might trouble them, but it did

not."

"_November 19._ Was busy trying to arrange bills and papers so as to go

to Gardiner to-morrow with my Richards son-in-law, when in the late

afternoon Rosalind told me that dear noble Ednah Cheney had died. This

caused me much distress. My first word was: 'The house of God is closed!

Such a friend is indeed a sanctuary to which one might retire for refuge

from all mean and unworthy things.'

"A luminous intellect, unusual powers of judgment and of sympathy as

well. She has been a tower of strength to me. I sent word by telephone

to Charles G. Ames, begging that _her_ hymn might be sung at church

to-morrow...."

"_November 21._ Dear E. D. C.'s funeral.... I spoke of her faith in

immortality, which I remember as unwavering. I said: 'No, that lustrous

soul is not gone down into darkness. It has ascended to a higher light,

to which our best affections and inspirations may aspire.'"

"_December 25...._ Got out my dearest little Sammy's picture and placed

it on my mantelshelf. [He was a Christmas child.] Maud and I went to the

Oratorio, which we enjoyed.... I wondered whether the heavenly ones

could not enjoy the beautiful music."

"_December 31._ A little festivity.... At supper I was called upon for a

toast, and after a moment's thought, responded thus:--

"God grant us all to thrive,

And for a twelvemonth to be alive,

And every bachelor to wive;

And many blessings on the head

Of our dear Presidential Ted.

"We saw the year out; a year of grace to me, if ever I had one."

The new year (1905) found her in full health and activity. On its first

day she writes:--

"I begin this book by thanking God most deeply that He has permitted me

to see the dawn of this New Year, and by praying that I may not wilfully

waste one of its precious days. I am now about half through my

eighty-sixth year and must feel no surprise if the mandate to remove

should come suddenly or at any time. But while I live, dear Lord, let me

truly live in energetic thought and rational action. Bless, I pray Thee,

my own dear family, my blessed country, Christendom, and all mankind.

This is my daily prayer and I record it here. Is it amiss that in this

prayer my own people come first? No! for family affection is the

foundation of all normal human relations. We begin with the Heavenly

Father and open out to the whole human brotherhood."

"_January 2._ Had an anxious time hunting after my Hawthorne screed to

read this afternoon before the New England Woman's Club. In my

perplexity I said: 'Lord, I do not deserve to have You help me find it';

but the answer seemed to come thus: 'My help is of grace and not

according to desert'; and I found it at once where I ought to have

looked for it at first...."

"_January 20...._ You can't do good with a bad action." [Apropos of the

shot fired at the Czar.]

"The reason why a little knowledge is dangerous is that your conceit of

it may make you refuse to learn more."

She was writing a paper on Mrs. Stowe and "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and

worked hard over it. The pace began to tell.

She spoke for the friends of Russian freedom, "a warm speech, almost

without preparation. I knew that I should find my inspiration in the

occasion itself. I had almost a spasm of thankfulness to Almighty God

for the opportunity to speak for such a cause at such a time."

At the suffrage hearing soon after, she "spoke of the force of inertia

as divinely ordained and necessary, but ordained, too, to be overcome by

the onward impulse which creates worlds, life, and civilization. Said it

was this inertia which opposed suffrage, the _dread_ of change inherent

in masses, material or moral, etc., etc."

Among her winter delights were the "Longy" concerts of instrumental

music. She writes of one:--

"Was carried away by the delight of the music--all wind instruments. A

trio of Handel for bassoon and two oboes was most solid and

beautiful.... I could think of nothing but Shakespeare's 'Tempest' and

'Midsummer Night's Dream.' The thought that God had set all human life

and work to music overpowered me, and coming home I had a rhapsody of

thanksgiving for the wonderful gift...."

The next day came an entertainment in aid of Atlanta University and

Calhoun School; she "enjoyed this exceedingly, especially the plantation

songs, which are of profoundest pathos, mixed with overpowering humor.

It was pleasant, too, to see the audience in which descendants of the

old anti-slavery folk formed quite a feature. I had worked hard at the

screed which was, I think, good. Heard interesting reports of mission

work in our entire South."

At the Authors' Club she met Israel Zangwill, who was "rather

indifferent" when introduced to her. She thought he probably knew

nothing about her, and adds,--

"It is good perhaps to be taken down, now and then."

In March she attended a hearing in connection with the School Board.

"The chair most courteously invited me to speak, saying, 'There is here

a venerable lady who will hardly be likely to come here again for the

present discussion, so I shall give her the remaining time.' Whereupon I

leaped into the arena and said my say."

She had been for some time toiling over a paper on the "Noble Women of

the Civil War," finding it hard and fatiguing work. On April 5 she

writes:--

"At 12 M. I had finished my screed on the 'Noble Women of the Civil War'

which has been my nightmare ever since March 24, when I began it, almost

despairing of getting it done.... I have written very carefully and have

had some things to say which may, I hope, do good. I can now take up

many small tasks which have had to give way to this one...."

"_April 9._ The Greek celebration. The Greek Papa, in full costume,

intoned the Doxology and the assembly all sang solemn anthems. Michael

introduced me first. My speech was short, but had been carefully

prepared. At the request of the Papa I said at the end: '_Zeto ton

Ellenikon ethnos._' My speech and Greek sentence were much applauded. A

young Greek lady presented me with a fine bouquet of white carnations

with blue and white ribbons, the colors of Greece. Sanborn read from

dear Chev's letters of 1825. Michael spoke at great length, with great

vehemence and gesticulation. I understood many words, but could only

guess at the general drift. I imagine that it was very eloquent, as he

was much applauded."

"_April 30._ Lorin Deland called to talk about the verses which I am to

write and read at his theatre. The thought of Cassandra seized me. She,

coming to the house of the Atridæ, had a vision of its horrors; I,

coming to this good theatre, have a vision of the good things which have

been enjoyed there and which shall still be enjoyed. Wrote down some

five or six lines, 'lest I forget.'"

Mr. and Mrs. Deland were among her best friends of the second

generation. Indeed, there was such a sympathy and comprehension between

her and "Margaret" that the latter playfully declared herself a daughter

abandoned in infancy, and was wont to sign herself, "Your doorstep

Brat"!

"_May 5...._ 'Without religion you will never know the real beauty and

glory of life; you will perceive the discords, but miss the harmony;

will see the defects, but miss the good in all things.'"

In these years an added burden was laid upon her, in the general and

affectionate desire for her presence on all manner of occasions. The

firemen must have her at their ball, the Shoe and Leather Trade at their

banquet, the Paint and Oils Association at their dinner. Their

festivities would not be complete without her; she loved them, went to

their parties, had the right word to say, and came home happy, her arms

full of flowers.

It was all beautiful and heart-warming, but it had to be paid for. May

10 brought the punishment for this season.

"Annual Woman Suffrage supper. I was to have spoken at this occasion and

to have recited the poem which I wrote for Castle Square Theatre, but it

was otherwise ordained. I rose as usual, my head a little misty. A

mighty blow of vertigo seized me.... The elder Wesselhoeft pronounced it

a 'brain fag,' not likely to have serious results, but emphatically a

_warning_ not to abuse further my nervous strength. Got up in afternoon

and finished 'Villa Claudia'; was bitterly sad at disappointing the

suffragists and Deland."

Dr. Wesselhoeft was asked on this occasion why, at her age, so severe an

attack as this had not resulted in paralysis. "Because," he replied,

"she brought to receive it the strength of forty years of age!"

Sure enough, the next day she felt as if her "nervous balance was very

well restored," and in a week she was at work again.

"_May 18...._ In the evening had word of a Decoration Day poem needed.

At once tried some lines."

"_May 19._ Doubted much of my poem, but wrote it, spending most of the

working hours over it; wrote and rewrote, corrected again and again.

Julia Richards mailed it at about 4 P.M.... Just as I went to bed I

remembered that in the third verse of my poem I had used the words

'tasks' and 'erect' as if they rhymed. This troubled me a good deal. My

prayer was, 'God help the fool.'"

"_May 20._ My trouble of mind about the deficient verse woke me at 6.30

A.M. I tossed about and wondered how I could lie still until 7.30, my

usual time for rising. The time passed somehow. I could not think of any

correction to make in my verse. Hoped that I should find that I had not

written it as I feared. When I came to look at it, there it was.

Instantly a line with a proper rhyme presented itself to my mind. To add

to my trouble I had lost the address to which I had sent the poem. My

granddaughter, Julia Richards, undertook to interview the Syndicate by

long-distance telephone, and, failing this, to telegraph the new line

for me. So I left all in her hands. When I returned, she met me with a

smile and said, 'It is all right, Grandmother.' She had gone out, found

a New York directory, guessed at the Syndicate, got the correspondent,

and put her in possession of the new line. I was greatly relieved. I

have been living lately with work running after me all the time. Must

now have a breathing spell. Have still my 'Simplicity' screed to

complete."

The Authors' Club celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday by a charming

festival, modelled on the Welsh Eistedfodd, "at which every bard of that

nation brought four lines of verse--a sort of four-leaved clover--to his

chief."[146] Sixty quatrains made what she calls "an astonishing

testimonial of regard." Colonel Higginson, who presided most charmingly,

read many of these tributes aloud, and the Birthday Queen responded in a

rhyme scribbled hastily the day before. Here are a few of the tributes,

together with her "reply":--

EISTEDFODD

Each bard of Wales, who roams the kingdom o'er

Each year salutes his chief with stanzas four;

Behold us here, each bearing verse in hand

To greet the four-leaved clover of our band.

THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON.

[146] T. W. Higginson, _The Outlook_, January 26, 1907.

FIVE O'CLOCK WITH THE IMMORTALS

The Sisters Three who spin our fate

Greet Julia Ward, who comes quite late;

How Greek wit flies! They scream with glee,

Drop thread and shears, and make the tea.

E. H. CLEMENT.

If man could change the universe

By force of epigrams in verse,

He'd smash some idols, I allow,

But who would alter Mrs. Howe?

ROBERT GRANT.

Dot oldt Fader Time must be cutting some dricks,

Vhen he calls our goot Bresident's age eighty-six.

An octogeranium! Who would suppose?

My dear Mrs. Julia Ward Howe der time goes!

YAWCOB STRAUSS (CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS).

You, who are of the spring,

To whom Youth's joys must cling.

May all that Love can give

Beguile you long to live--

Our Queen of Hearts.

LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.

MRS. HOWE'S REPLY

Why, bless you, I ain't nothing, nor nobody, nor much,

If you look in your Directory, you'll find a thousand such;

I walk upon the level ground, I breathe upon the air,

I study at a table, and reflect upon a chair.

I know a casual mixture of the Latin and the Greek,

I know the Frenchman's _parlez-vous_, and how the Germans speak;

Well can I add, and well subtract, and say twice two is four,

But of those direful sums and proofs remember nothing more.

I wrote a pretty book one time, and then I wrote a play,

And a friend who went to see it said she fainted right away.

Then I got up high to speculate upon the Universe,

And folks who heard me found themselves no better and no worse.

Yes, I've had a lot of birthdays and I'm growing very old,

That's why they make so much of me, if once the truth were told.

And I love the shade in summer, and in winter love the sun,

And I'm just learning how to live, my wisdom's just begun.

Don't trouble more to celebrate this natal day of mine,

But keep the grasp of fellowship which warms us more than wine.

Let us thank the lavish hand that gives world beauty to our eyes,

And bless the days that saw us young, and years that make us wise.

"_May 27._ My eighty-sixth birthday. I slept rather late, yesterday

having been eminently a 'boot-and-saddle' day.... The Greeks, mostly

working-people, sent me a superb leash of roses with a satin ribbon

bearing a Greek inscription. My visitors were numerous, many of them the

best friends that time has left me. T. W. H. was very dear. My dear ones

of the household bestirred themselves to send flowers, according to my

wishes, to the Children's Hospital and to Charles Street Jail."

"_May 28._... A great box of my birthday flowers ornamented the pulpit

of the church. They were to be distributed afterwards to the

Sunday-School children, some to the Primary Teachers' Association; a

bunch of lilies of the valley to Reverend Hayward's funeral to-morrow. I

suddenly bethought me of Padre Roberto, and with dear Laura's help sent

him a box of flowers for his afternoon service, with a few lines of

explanation, to which I added the motto: '_Unus deus, una fides, unum

baptisma._' This filled full the cup of my satisfaction regarding the

disposal of the flowers. They seemed to me such sacred gifts that I

could not bear merely to enjoy them and see them fade. Now they will not

fade for me."

Among the many "screeds" written this season was one on "The Value of

Simplicity," which gave her much trouble. She takes it to pieces and

rewrites it, and afterwards is "much depressed; no color in anything."

From Gardiner she "writes to Sanborn" for the Horatian lines she wishes

to quote. ("Whenever," she said once to Colonel Higginson, "I want to

find out about anything difficult, I always write to Sanborn!" "Of

course!" replied Higginson. "We all do!" At this writing the same course

is pursued, there is reason to believe, by many persons in many

countries.)

It is remembered that in these days when she was leaving Gardiner at the

last moment she handed Laura a note. It read, "Be sure to rub the knee

thoroughly night and morning!"

"Why," she was asked, "did I not have this a week ago?"

"I hate to be rubbed!" she said.

"_July 1. Oak Glen_.... Found a typed copy of my 'Rest' sermon,

delivered in our own church, twelve years ago. Surely preaching has been

my greatest privilege and in it I have done some of my best work."

"_July 2_. Unusually depressed at waking. Feared that I might be visited

by 'senile melancholia' against which I shall pray with all my might....

Began Plato's 'Laws.'"

Plato seems to have acted as a tonic, for on the same day she writes to

her daughter-in-law, expressing her joy in "Harry's" latest honor, the

degree of Doctor of Laws conferred by Harvard College:--

_To Mrs. Henry Marion Howe_

OAK GLEN, July 2, 1905.

Thanks very much for your good letter, giving me such a gratifying

account of the doings at Harvard on Commencement Day. I feel quite moved

at the thought of my dear son's receiving this well-merited honor from

his _alma mater_. It shows, among other things, how amply he has

retrieved his days of boyish mischief. This is just what his dear father

did. I think you must both have had a delightful time. How did our H. M.

H. look sitting up in such grave company? I hope he has not lost his old

twinkle. I am very proud and glad....

She was indeed proud of all her son's honors; of any success of child or

grandchild; yet she would pretend to furious jealousy. "I see your book

is praised, Sir!" (or, "Madam!") "It probably does not deserve it. H'm!

nobody praises _my_ books!" etc., etc. And all the time her face so

shining with pleasure and tenderness under the sternly bended brows that

the happy child needed no other praise from any one.

"_July 23_.... I feel to-day the isolation consequent upon my long

survival of the threescore and ten apportioned as the term of human

life. Brothers and sisters, friends and fellow-workers, many are now in

the silent land. I am praying for some good work, paying work, so that I

may efficiently help relatives who need help, and good causes whose

demand for aid is constant...."

"_July 24_. To-day Harry and Alice Hall have left me with their two dear

children. I have had much delight with baby Frances, four months old....

I pray that I may be able to help these children. I looked forward to

their visit as a kindness to them and their parents, but it has been a

great kindness to me...."

"_September 5_. Some bright moments to-day. At my prayer a thought of

the divine hand reaching down over the abyss of evil to rescue

despairing souls!..."

"_September 19_. Dear Flossy and Harry left. I shall miss them

dreadfully. She has taken care of me these many weeks and has been most

companionable and affectionate. My dear boy was as ever very sweet and

kind...."

"_September 22_. Have puzzled much about my promised screed for the

'Cosmopolitan' on 'What would be the Best Gift to the People of the

Country?' As I got out of bed it suddenly occurred to me as 'the glory

of having promoted recognition of human brotherhood.' This must include

'Justice to Women.' I meant to tackle the theme at once, but after

breakfast a poem came to me in the almost vulgar question, 'Does your

Mother know you're out?' I had to write this, also a verse or two in

commemoration of Frederic L. Knowles, a member of our Authors' Club, who

has just passed away."

"_September 25_.... I must have got badly chilled this morning, for my

right hand almost refuses to guide the pen. I tried several times to

begin a short note to David Hall, but could not make distinct letters.

Then I forced myself to pen some rough draft and now the pen goes

better, but not yet quite right. I had the same experience last winter

once. I suppose that I have overtired my brain; it is a warning...."

"_October 5_.... I had a moment of visioning, in which I seemed to see

Christ on the cross refusing to drink the vinegar and gall, and myself

to reach up a golden cup containing 'the love pledge of humanity.'

Coming home I scrawled the verses before lying down to rest."[147]

[147] These verses are printed in At Sunset, under the title of

"Humanity," and at the head of chapter XI of this volume.

"_October 9_. After a week of painful anxiety I learn to-day that my

screed for the 'Cosmopolitan' is accepted. I felt so persuaded to the

contrary that I delayed to open the envelope until I had read all my

other letters...."

"_October 25_. Meeting of Boston Authors' Club.... Worked all the

morning at sorting my letters and papers.... Laura, Maud, and I drove

out to Cambridge. I had worked hard all the morning, but had managed to

put together a scrap of rhyme in welcome of Mark Twain. A candle was lit

for me to read by, and afterwards M. T. jumped upon a chair and made

fun, some good, some middling, for some three quarters of an hour. The

effect of my one candle lighting up his curly hair was good and my rhyme

was well received.

"_Mark_ the gracious, welcome guest,

Master of heroic jest;

He who cheers man's dull abodes

With the laughter of the gods;

To the joyless ones of earth

Sounds the reveille of mirth.

"Well we meet, to part with pain,

But ne'er shall _he_ and _we_ be Twain."

"_December 5. Gardiner, Maine._ On coming to breakfast found a note from

dearest Maud, saying that she would sail this day for Spain. Was much

overcome by this intelligence, yet felt that it was on the whole best.

The day passed rather heavily, the relish seemed gone from everything."

"_December 6. Boston_.... Reaching home I lay down to rest, but the

feeling of Maud's departure so overpowered me that I got up and went

about, crying out: 'I can't stand it!' I soon quieted down, being

comforted by my dear Laura, Julia, and Betty, but could not sleep until

bedtime, when I slept soundly."

CHAPTER XIV

"THE SUNDOWN SPLENDID AND SERENE"

1906-1907; _aet._ 87-88

HYMN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS LIBERALS

_Held in Boston, 1907_

Hail! Mount of God, whereon with reverent feet

The messengers of many nations meet;

Diverse in feature, argument, and creed,

One in their errand, brothers in their need.

Not in unwisdom are the limits drawn

That give far lands opposing dusk and dawn;

One sun makes bright the all-pervading air,

One fostering spirit hovers everywhere.

So with one breath may fervent souls aspire,

With one high purpose wait the answering fire.

Be this the prayer that other prayers controls,--

That light divine may visit human souls.

The worm that clothes the monarch spins no flaw,

The coral builder works by heavenly law;

Who would to Conscience rear a temple pure

Must prove each stone and seal it, sound and sure.

Upon one steadfast base of truth we stand,

Love lifts her sheltering walls on either hand;

Arched o'er our head is Hope's transcendent dome,

And in the Father's heart of hearts our home.

J. W. H.

"I pray for many things this year. For myself, I ask continued health of

mind and body, work, useful, honorable, remunerative, as it shall please

God to send; for my dear family, work of the same description with

comfortable wages, faith in God, and love to each other; for my

country, that she may keep her high promise to mankind; for Christendom,

that it may become more Christ-like; for the struggling nationalities,

that they may attain to peace and justice."

"Such a wonderful dream in the early morning. I was in some rural region

alone; the clear blue sky was over my head. I looked up and said, 'I am

fed from God's table. I am sheltered under His roof.' While I still felt

this joy, a lone man, passing by, broke into a complaint on the hardness

of things. I wanted in my dream to call him back, but he passed too

rapidly. I still see in my 'mind's eye' that blue sky and the lone man

passing by, I still recall the thrill of that meditation, literally in

Dreamland, as I was quite asleep when it visited me...."

* * * * *

The great event of this winter was a trip to Baltimore for a Woman

Suffrage Convention.

"_February 4._ I had not been able to think of anything to say in

Baltimore, but this morning it seemed to come to me. I have just written

out my screed, ... taking a point of view which I do not think I have

presented before, viz.: that inferior education and restricted activity

made women the inferiors of men, as naturally as training, education,

and free agency make civilized men the superior of the savage. I think

that the dear Lord gave me this screed, which is short and simple

enough, but, I think, convincing...."

This Convention came near being her last. Tonsillitis was epidemic in

the city; the halls were draughty; at one meeting a woman with a severe

cold, a stranger, kissed her effusively. She took the infection, was

prostrated for some days, and made the return journey while still too

weak to travel. Florence, who was with her, protested in vain. "I would

go," she said, "_if the hearse was at the door!_" A serious illness

followed on her return. A month and more passed before she began to

regain strength and spirits.[148]

[148] It may be noted that this epidemic of tonsillitis was actually

fatal to Miss Susan B. Anthony, who never recovered from the illness

contracted in Baltimore.

"_March 31._ Had a happy lighting up when I lay down for afternoon rest.

Felt the immensity of God's goodness and took heart for the future."

In April she records "a delightful visit from Robert Collyer,

accompanied by Annie Fields. I asked him: 'Robert, what is religion?' He

replied, 'To love God with all one's heart, Christ helping us.' He began

his prayer last Sunday thus: 'Our Father who art in heaven, on earth,

and in hell!'"

On April 13, she was "out for the first time since February 14, when I

returned sick from Baltimore...."

Another week and she was at her church, for the first time since January

18.

It had been a long and weary time, yet one remembers not so much the

suffering and confinement as the gayety of it. There was a sigh for the

Journal, but for the family, and the faithful nurse,--

"Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,

Nods and becks, and wreathéd smiles."

This nurse was known to others as Lucy Voshell, but her patient promptly

named her "Wollapuk." She was as merry as she was skillful, and the two

made much fun together. Even when the patient could not speak, she could

twinkle. As strength gradually returned, the ministrations of Wollapuk

became positively scenes of revelry; and the anxious guardian below,

warding off would-be interviewers or suppliants, might be embarrassed to

hear peals of laughter ringing down the stair.

Early in May she has "young J. W. Hurlburt to dine; a pleasant young

playwright, grandson to General Hurlburt of the Civil War...."

"I had lent my play of 'Hippolytus' to young Hurlburt to read. He

brought it back yesterday with so much praise of parts of it as to

revive the pang which I felt when, Charlotte Cushman and Edwin Booth

having promised to fill the principal parts, the manager's wife suddenly

refused to fill her part, and the whole fell through. This with much

other of my best literary work has remained a dead letter on my own

shelves. I am glad as well as sad to feel that it deserved better

treatment."

She had a wheel-chair, and on pleasant days it was her delight to be

wheeled through the Public Garden, now in full May beauty, to see the

flowers and the children. She was able to attend several meetings, and

to write several papers.

"_May 18._ Have read part of the recital of Anna Ticknor's achievement

in her society to encourage studies at home. Her work is really heroic.

I wish that I had better understood it. Still I did admire it a great

deal, but had little idea of the great benevolence and sympathy

developed in her work, which was a godsend to thousands of women."

"_May 26._ My dear son arrived in the evening to celebrate my birthday.

He seems well and happy. I was thankful to see him. Flowers kept

arriving all day."

"_May 27._ Attended church and carried some of my birthday flowers for

the pulpit.... In the afternoon a beautiful reception which the rain

kept from being the over-crowd which I had rather feared. Colonel

Higginson came and gave me some lovely verses written for the occasion.

William R. Thayer did likewise. Arthur Upson had already sent me some. I

enjoyed it all very much; dined downstairs with my dear family, who

drank my health standing. H. M. H., being called upon for a word, said,

'The dear old girl!' and could not have said better. I thanked and

blessed them all. We passed the evening together. The Greeks of Boston

sent splendid red roses and ribbons with motto. The Italians sent

flowers."

After this she wrote an essay on "How to Keep Young," in which she

says:--

"Try to keep in touch with the best spirits of your time, with those who

are raising instead of lowering the tone of the atmosphere in which they

live.

"Avoid the companionship of those who deride sacred things and are

inclined to ignore the limits of refinement and good taste.

"Remember that ignoble amusements react upon character.

"Never forget that we grow like to that we contemplate.

"Keep it always in mind that it must be through our own efforts that our

progress through life shall bring with it the fulfilment of the best

promise of our youth."

* * * * *

"_July 2. Oak Glen._ Nurse Voshell, nicknamed by me Wollapuk, left this

morning. I have become so dependent upon her that I shall miss her very

much. I have been impatient of having her so long, but now see how very

helpful she has been to me.

"I began to write a retrospect of my essay on 'Distinctions between

Philosophy and Religion,' but feel that this will be of little value.

Oh! that I had taken Dr. Hedge's advice and published these papers soon

after they were written. As it is I have lost two of the best of them,

viz.: this one just mentioned and 'Moral Triangulation of the Third

Party,' in obligations and contrasts."

In these days she met with a grave loss in the death of Michael Anagnos.

"I am deeply grieved at his death, which is a real loss to me and my

family, and almost irreparable to the Institution which he has served

nobly with entire devotion and disinterest and has enriched by his great

and constant efforts. He built three Kindergartens for the blind. God

rest his soul!

"I pray that my great pain at the death of my son-in-law may inspire me

to help the blind as I never have helped them!"

"My strength has failed so much of late that my strong love of life

begins to waver. I should be glad to live to print some of my studies in

Philosophy, and to have some of my musical compositions taken down by

dictation."

"_August 31...._ The last day of a summer which brought a serious grief

in the death of Michael Anagnos, who, ever since my visit to Greece in

1867, has been an important factor in my life. I am much troubled in the

effort to compose a poem to be read at the memorial services to be held

for him in late October...."

A photograph taken at this time shows her sitting in her hooded chair on

the piazza, her Greek books and her canary beside her, a serene and

lovely picture. It was so she used to sit every morning. First she read

her Testament, and a prayer of James Martineau, or some other good

saint; this she called "taking the altitude"; then she turned to her

Æschylus or Aristotle.

Before thus settling down, there would be a walk on the piazza, or along

the highway. Sheltered by a broad hat, the friend of many years, wrapped

in the "passionate pilgrim," as she named a certain ancient purple

cloak, leaning on her ebony stick--who that passed that way has not seen

her? Bits of her talk, as we strolled together, come back to us; as when

the clouds parted suddenly at the close of a gray day, then shutting in

again. "Oh!" she cried, "it is like being engaged to the man you love,

for five minutes!"

"_September 16...._ I had had much hesitation about undertaking to

speak at Shiloh Baptist Church [colored] this afternoon; but it came to

me as something which I ought to do, and so I gave the promise, and,

with some studying, wrote the sermon. The result fully justified the

effort. I spoke to a large and very attentive congregation, in which a

number of white outsiders were mingled in with the people of the

church.... Mrs. Jeter sang my 'Battle Hymn,' the congregation joining in

the 'Glory Hallelujah.' I then read my screed, which was heard with

profound attention, one and another crying out at intervals, 'Amen!' and

'Glory be to God!'... I was very thankful for the good issue of what had

seemed an almost wild undertaking at eighty-seven years of age."

"_October 23._ Have prayed and worked over the poem for Michael's

memorial services--think that I have made it as good as I can, but not

good enough. Alas! I am too old."

She went up to Boston for this meeting in Tremont Temple, which was a

most impressive one, Greeks and Americans uniting to do honor to a good

man.