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Many years ago, shortly after I began teaching at Lafayette College, I
determined to join The American Association for the Advancement of
Science. This long-winded name was given by themselves to a collection
of bookworms who every year assembled in some good-sized city, after
having collected some thousands of dollars for expenses of the local
merchants, and held as many as a dozen pow wows in as many different
rooms. In one of these rooms a learned discussion on one or more
mathematical questions was kept up during most of the hours of daylight;
in a second, subjects in physics were undergoing examination; a third
room was occupied by the chemists, a fourth by the biologists;
everywhere there was a sprinkling of “nuts” who were in danger of
breaking out and must be sat upon in order not to discredit the serious
minded.
The discussions sometimes dropped into a burst of self-admiration by
some savant devoted to the holy cause of science who was keeping the
lamp of knowledge burning in poverty and distress. These wails were
occasionally broken in upon by another wholesome-minded soul, like the
great Cope, who boldly declared that he was not suffering but having a
good time and could be happy in no other way.
In the evenings some of us put on our best clothes and attended a garden
party given by a local magnate where we met the money bags of the
neighborhood and for an hour breathed the unaccustomed air of luxury; or
we attended an evening lecture given by some member of the attending
band of scientists in compliment to the hosts; a chosen few assembled at
a room where good beer was to be had, in ordinary dress, drank a little
beer and listened to stories and discussions straight from the shoulder
and worth while.
It was in these evening discussions and in daylight visits to points of
geological or other interest that we became acquainted and learned to
enjoy the great week of the year. It was here that I first met Le Conte,
Cope, Major Powell, the one-armed explorer of the Colorado canyon,
Brashear, who made his first lenses from tumbler bottoms and Wiley, the
jolly farmer giant, _facile princeps_ among men.
I believe I first met Wiley at Buffalo in August, 1886. We visited
Niagara together as part of a jolly crowd and had a happy day. Nearly
every year for many years after I met Wiley at these meetings. I also
met him elsewhere. He came to Easton nearly every year for awhile to
lecture to my students. The lecture room was large enough to hold the
audience at first, but as he became better known we moved over to Pardee
Hall into a room large enough to hold the crowd that came to enjoy the
treat. Presently the “old man,” as we called him, was asked to go to
Lehigh whenever he came to Lafayette. I always went up with him and
listened again. His lectures were always new, never twice the same.
On one occasion he wrote me asking whether he might spend an extra day
with me and I gladly acceded. We rode all day through the hills and
woods over Scott’s Mountain and had a jolly day. When the attempt to
pass pure food legislation became strenuous Frear and I conspired in its
behalf and carried our point. When he became President of the American
Chemical Society he chose me as editor and we toiled together at the
heavy task. Afterwards I printed and published his great work on
Agricultural Chemical Analysis. In all this work and play he was the
kind, indulgent older brother.
For many years he led the lonely imperfect life of a bachelor until he
had reached the ripe age of 62 when his love of many years yielded to
his wishes and they were married. I shall never forget the glad smile on
his face as my wife and I came up to congratulate them and he realized
that we had traveled all the way from Easton to wish him joy.
Upon a later occasion we visited Washington with a large party of
chemists and, with many others were the guests of Dr. and Mrs. Wiley at
a dinner at the Raleigh. But we had the advantage of most of the other
guests, for we were admitted behind the scenes before the dinner came
off. Mrs. Wiley and Nan Pierce, Dr. Wiley’s Secretary, told us about
some of the funny things that had occurred. Dr. Wiley was away from home
and they were forced to make all the arrangements. They knew only a few
of his friends and succeeded in inviting several dead people to the
feast.
Upon another occasion we were in Washington with a party of Rotarians
and the Wileys invited us to dinner at their home in Ashmead Place. Here
we met the Wiley boys, Harvey Jr. and John, for the first time, while my
wife told us, to our great joy, how, by a series of amusing
misunderstandings, she had narrowly escaped being a guest at one of Mrs.
Harding’s private parties. In the evening we attended a literary soiree
with Dr. and Mrs. Wiley and greatly enjoyed the papers read and the
chaff that formed a part. It was a real literary treat.
Then we learned that his eyesight was failing and that he was soon to be
operated upon for cataract. The day of the operation passed and we had
no news. We dare not telegraph for fear the operation had not succeeded.
Thus a week passed. At last we learned that he saw once more though not
so well as of old.
We saw Dr. Wiley again at the Golden Wedding of Dr. and Mrs. W. H.
Nichols at Sherry’s last winter. Dr. Wiley seemed well and in good
spirits. We saw comparatively little of him here because so many of his
friends were present and each claimed a share of his time.
Several months later a letter arrived telling us that the family
expected to start for Cambridge, Mass., shortly, where Wiley was to
attend the fiftieth reunion of his class at Harvard. They would arrive
in Easton in the evening by auto and would spend the night with us. I
immediately replied that the road up College Hill was closed for repairs
and that they must telephone me on arrival and allow me to join and
pilot them.
Accordingly, at 8 P. M. the telephone rang and Mrs. Wiley’s voice
announced their arrival. They were dusty and tired and soon after dinner
retired to rest.
We have quite a good-sized house but the family is large and only two
extra rooms were available. One of these contained a large wooden
bedstead heavy and strong enough to support a hippopotamus; this was
dedicated to Dr. and Mrs. Wiley. The other room had a large brass
bedstead which had been used for many years. Originally it had been well
and strong; but long continued use by our four stocky boys as a
spring-board and general exercise ground had weakened our confidence in
its ability to sustain heavy weights. We thought, however, it would
surely sustain the two boys. After they had all retired and it was too
late to interfere, from sundry movements and murmurings overhead, it
became evident that a readjustment had taken place and that Dr. Wiley
and his huskiest son were in the weak bed while Nan and the younger boy
occupied the bed for elephants. We listened in dreadful suspense for a
breakdown. Fortunately none came and the extra weight was safely
carried.
For ten days we heard nothing of the Wileys and then they drove up on
their way home. They had had a wonderful time at Harvard and on the way
home. On the way they stopped at a country hotel and John had climbed up
to the peak of the roof and was unable to get down. Then he called to
his father for help and that hard-hearted parent refused to assist him
for some time but finally relented.
Mrs. Hart had no help in the kitchen and the Doctor thought they had
better not stop but I persuaded him otherwise. I said: “We want you to
stay. We will let you help us and will dispense with all frills. I have
so arranged that Mrs. Hart shall not be overworked and shall be able to
enjoy your visit.” On that understanding they consented to stay. The
next day was Thursday, the meeting day of our Rotary Club, and the
Doctor, the Wiley boys and my own four boys were my guests at the Rotary
lunch. They made quite an array, and there was much quiet amusement as
they filed in and sat down. After the lunch Dr. Wiley was called upon to
speak and made us a short address—such a happy talk as only Wiley can
make.
In the meantime Mrs. Wiley and Dr. Kate De Witt Miesse, our family
physician and a friend of Mrs. Wiley, and my wife, were dining at the
Pomfret Club, guests of my wife. Behind the curtains that night I heard
the story from my wife of how her two guests discoursed on woman’s
rights while she sat and listened and enjoyed the fun.
That night at dinner we had ice cream and cake for dessert, and the boys
brought in the towering piece of cream fresh from the can. It towered
above my wife as she sliced off the portions and finally toppled over on
the platter. Mrs. Wiley had been watching it in nervous terror, and as
it went over she screamed and shouted: “My soul and body!” much to our
amusement. The Doctor informed us that for a moderate surprise she
called: “My soul!” but great occasions called for: “My soul and body!”
The next day was raining and we were not able to visit the farm as we
had planned but spent the day at home resting. The following day was
beautiful and we had an early breakfast that they might be soon on the
road. The topic somehow shifted to the question of woman’s rights and
the Doctor proceeded to tell us how, in pursuit of these rights, his
wife had become a criminal and been hustled to the gaol while her
devoted family were scouring the country to find her.
They had been persecuting Mr. Wilson, he said, and merited their sad
fate but he thought she had no business to leave three hopeless orphans
stranded as she had. We all laughed and almost screamed with delight as
the story proceeded.
After breakfast the Doctor begged us to go part way with them. They
expected to stop at Valley Forge and they wanted us to go too. We
finally agreed to go. At Doylestown my auto shed a tire and we sent for
the garage man while we lunched in the shade of the trees. It was
determined to leave my machine while I was to ride with my wife or with
the Wileys. Then Mrs. Wiley cornered me and said I must not strike or
push a lady while the Doctor paid the garage man.
When I tried to get in my wife’s car I found all the boys there; of
course they wanted to be together, so I got in with the Wileys. We drove
around Valley Forge Park and enjoyed the beauty of the spot and reminded
ourselves of the poor soldiers, freezing and starving the winter away,
and proceeded to climb the tower. John went ahead and reached the very
top before his mother spied him and then she once more screamed: “My
soul and body!”
My boys were very fond of Mrs. Wiley. So was I until I became aware of
the disaffection she had stirred up. Previous to this visit my wife had
been obedient, as all wives should be, but now she began to speak up.
She told us Mrs. Wiley said that every wife who took care of her man and
his children was self supporting and had a _right_ to share his wealth
if he had any. This is dreadful doctrine as all but the depraved must
agree. I am wondering whether we had better have Mrs. Wiley again?
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