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_MEMORIES GRAVE AND GAY_

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_MEMORIES_

_GRAVE AND GAY_

BY FLORENCE HOWE HALL

_Frontispiece portrait_

_Harper & Brothers Publishers_ _New York and London_

MEMORIES GRAVE AND GAY

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MY SONS AND MY DAUGHTER SAMUEL PRESCOTT HALL CAROLINE MINTURN BIRCKHEAD HENRY MARION HALL JOHN HOWE HALL

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author wishes to express her cordial thanks to Messrs HOUGHTON AND MIFFLIN for their courtesy in allowing her to quote from the “Reminiscences” of Julia Ward Howe (published by them in 1899) and from “Julia Ward Howe” (published by them in 1916). She also desires to thank Mrs. LAURA E. RICHARDS for her kind permission to quote from “The Journals and Letters of Samuel Gridley Howe” (published by Dana Estes & Company in 1906).

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. INTRODUCTORY The Romance of Philanthropy Causes the 1 First Meeting of Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe and Julia Ward.—Letter of Congratulation from the Poet Longfellow.—The “Chevalier.”—The Wedding-tour in Europe.—The Eldest Daughter, Julia Romana, Is Born in Rome. Why She Was “Mary” and I Was “Martha.”

II. STORIES TOLD US BY OUR PARENTS The Alarming Three Bears 4 of the Howe Coat-of-arms.—Brutality at the Old Boston Latin School.—Boyish Mischief.—Papa’s Church.—Grandmother Cutler Rebukes the Biographer of Washington and Marion.—Grandfather Ward, His Liberality and His Stern Calvinism.

III. MEMORIES OF EARLY CHILDHOOD The Perkins Institution for 12 the Blind.—South Boston in the ’Fifties and ’Sixties. Migratory Habits of the Howe Family.—“Cliff House” at Newport.—George William Curtis and the Howe Children.—A Children’s Party at the Longfellow Mansion.—Professor “Stubby” Child Plays with Us in the Hay.

IV. OUR EARLY LITERARY ACTIVITIES The Howe Children Invent 30 a “Patagonian Language,” Edit a Newspaper _The Listener_, Write Plays and Songs. They Give “Parlor Concerts” and Take Part in Tableaux and Private Theatricals.—William Story and Thackeray.

V. UNDER THE SHADOW OF BYRON’S HELMET Echoes of the Greek 40 Revolution.—The Enchanted Garden.—“Green Peace” an International Resort.—Political Exiles. Teach Us Foreign Languages and the Love of Freedom.—Louis Kossuth.

VI. NOTED VISITORS AT “GREEN PEACE” Charles Sumner and His 50 Brother.—Edwin P. Whipple—James T. Fields.—Doctor Kane.—Rev. Thomas Starr King.—Prof. Cornelius C. Felton.—Arthur Hugh Clough.—Frederika Bremer.—Laura Bridgman.

VII. YOUNG AMERICA GOES TO SCHOOL Our Schools and 68 Teachers.—The South Boston Omnibus.—A Grand School Sleigh-ride.—Memories of the Adams Family.—A Picnic on the State House Steps.

VIII. THE AGASSIZES AND THEIR SCHOOL Professor and Mrs. Louis 79 Agassiz.—Prof. Alexander Agassiz.—Papanti’s Dancing-school.—I Invent Fancy Dances.—We Swim, Skate, and Ride on Horseback.—Boston’s Purple-glass Windows.

IX. EDWIN BOOTH AND CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN Why They Did Not Act 92 My Mother’s Play, “Hippolytus.”—A Bundle of Old Playbills.—Letters from Edwin and Mary Booth.—Mrs. Frances Ann Kemble.—Statue of Horace Mann.—My Father Introduces Written Examinations into the Public Schools, amid Angry Protests from the Masters.

X. LAWTON’S VALLEY, OUR SUMMER HOME The Beautiful 110 Valley.—The Crawford Children.—“Yeller’s Day.”—“Vaucluse” and the Hazards.—The Midshipmen Visit Us.—Dances on Board the Frigate _Constitution_.—Parties in the Valley.—George Bancroft.—A Party at His House.—Rev. Charles T. Brooks.

XI. ANTI-SLAVERY AND CIVIL WAR MEMORIES Deep Interest of My 128 Parents in the Anti-Slavery Movement and in the Civil War.—We Learn the Evil of Compromise.—A Trip to Kansas.—Manners on the Mississippi Steamboats.—Fort Sumter Is Attacked.—Mother’s Poems of the War.—Father’s Work on the Sanitary Commission.—How the Flag Was Treated at Newport.—We Ride in the “Jeff Davis.” Knitting and Scraping Lint.—Sewing-circles.—Fairs for the Army and the Navy.—“The Boatswain’s Whistle.”—Visiting the Camp at Readville.—Governor N. P. Banks.—Governor John A. Andrew.—Parade of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery

XII. WORK FOR THE SOLDIERS The Ancient and Honorable 141 Artillery.—Death of Little Sammy.—Assassination of Lincoln.—My Father Serves on the Freedmen’s Commission.

XIII. THE BRIGHTER SIDE OF LIFE IN THE CIVIL WAR How We 155 Dressed and Danced in the ’Sixties.—War Prices.—Mrs. Jared Sparks.—Visit of the Russian Fleet.—The Brain Club.—Oliver Wendell Holmes.—Ralph Waldo Emerson.—William R. Alger.—William M. Hunt.—“Mamma’s Owls,” William and Henry James.—A Clever Group of Society Women.—A Historic Nose-pulling.

XIV. OUR LABORS IN BEHALF OF CRETE Removal to Boylston 180 Place.—W. D. Howells.—Marion Crawford as a Boy.—The Romance of a Fire.—The Cretan Insurrection.—Sisters Julia and Laura Accompany Our Parents to Greece.—A Grim Passenger.—A Price Is Set on My Father’s Head.—Our Cretan Sewing-Circle and Concert.—Over-modest Amateurs.—The Sumner Bronzes.

XV. MARRIED LIFE IN NEW YORK AND NEW JERSEY Nursery 205 Days.—The Family of a New Jersey Commuter.—Sorrows of the Country Housekeeper.—Death of My Father.—A Memorial Meeting.—The Story of Sister Constance.—A Division of Heirlooms.

XVI. RECONSTRUCTING A NEW JERSEY VILLAGE The Mutual 220 Admiration Society of Scotch Plains.—My Husband Becomes a Leader in Local Politics and Activities.—The Passing of the Mossbacks.—How We Gained a Public Library, a New School-house and a New Truck-house.—An Overseer of the Poor with Peculiar Methods.

XVII. “I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND” Following the Family 233 Tradition.—_Demorest’s_ and “Jennie June.”—Marion Crawford and the Little Green Parlor.—Town and Country Club.—Charles Dudley Warner.—How I Came to Write about Manners.—Life of Laura Bridgman.—Helen Keller at the Perkins Institution. A Luncheon at “Boothden,” the Home of Edwin Booth.—Joseph Jefferson and William Warren.

XVIII. OUR CHILDREN AT HOME, SCHOOL, AND COLLEGE An Attic 250 Fairy.—Our Child Artist Grinds Her Own Paints.—Scholarships and Athletics at Harvard University.—Our Youngest Wins an “H.”—American Girls’ Club in Paris.—Caroline’s Pictures Exhibited in the New Salon.

XIX. THE CLUB AND SUFFRAGE MOVEMENTS Enthusiasm of the 258 Pioneer Clubwomen.—Early Conventions of the General Federation of Women’s Clubs.—Work as President of New Jersey Woman Suffrage Association.—We Visit the Legislature.—Campaign for School Suffrage.—Formation of New Leagues.—Lucy Stone and Her Baby’s Cradle.—Rev. Samuel Smith, Author of “America.”

XX. JOYS AND SORROWS OF THE LECTURER The Treatment of 276 “Talent”—Visits to New England and to the West.—My Mother’s Seventieth Birthday.—The papeterie Club.—Elizabeth Stewart Phelps.—Thomas Nelson Page.

XXI. DARBY AND JOAN ON THEIR TRAVELS A Cathedral 286 Pilgrimage.—Visit to a French Country House.—Madame Blanc.—Cathedrals of Rheims, Chartres, Rouen, Beauvais, Amiens.—English Hospitality.—Visit to Florence Nightingale.

XXII. “WANDER-YEARS” Michael Anagnos, His Romantic Yet 308 Practical Career.—Death of My Husband.—Return to New York.—My Daughter’s Exhibitions.—High Bridge, a Quaint Old Jersey Town.—Leader Twelfth Assembly District of Manhattan.—Suffrage-worker at Newport, Rhode Island.—The Delights of Canvassing and Out-of-door Speaking.

XXIII. UNTO THE THIRD AND FOURTH GENERATION My Mother’s 332 Beautiful Old Age.—How It Feels to be an Ancestor.—Grandmotherhood in the Twentieth Century.—Keeping Alive the Sacred Fires of Noble Tradition.—Handing on the Lighted Torch.

FOREWORD

IT has been a pleasure for me to recall, at the kind request of the Messrs. Harper & Brothers, the memories of a lifetime, even though some sad thoughts have mingled with the happy ones. So many bright shapes have risen out of the past at my bidding that the difficulty of selection has been great. Beloved faces seem to look out at me and say, “Why did you leave me out?” The ghosts of noble deeds, the memories of stirring scenes sweep softly by me, murmuring: “Are we not worthy of mention?”

Indeed and indeed you are, bright spirits of the past and of the present also, but in my small mosaic all the precious stones would not fit.

For the rest, if the store of my childhood’s early memories seems to be unduly large, it must be whispered that when, some twenty-five years ago, I began to record my reminiscences, a good fairy, my mother, helped me.

_MEMORIES GRAVE AND GAY_

INTRODUCTORY

_The Romance of Philanthropy Causes the First Meeting of Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe and Julia Ward.—Letter of Congratulation from the Poet Longfellow.—The “Chevalier.”—The Wedding-tour in Europe.—The Eldest Daughter, Julia Romana, Is Born in Rome.—Why She Was “Mary” and I Was “Martha.”_

THOSE stern censors, Time and Space, forbid my giving an account of the early lives of my parents, Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe and Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, since these have been already described in their respective biographies and in my mother’s _Reminiscences_. Suffice it to say here that at the time of his marriage my father was already known on both sides of the Atlantic on account of his services in the Greek Revolution, as well as for his work for the blind. As “Surgeon-in-chief of the Fleet,” soldier, and almoner of America’s bounty, had he aided the Greeks in their long struggle with the barbarous Turks. The King of Greece made him a Knight of St. George, a title which he himself never used. But his intimate friends, fellow-members of the “Five of Clubs”—Longfellow, Charles Sumner, Prof. Cornelius C. Felton and George S. Hilliard—called him “Chevalier,” which my mother abbreviated to “Chev.”

It was the Ward sisters’ interest in his famous pupil, Laura Bridgman, the blind deaf-mute, which brought about the first meeting of my parents, Charles Sumner and the poet driving the young ladies to the Institution for the Blind. In the following winter, 1842–43, Doctor Howe and Julia Ward became engaged, their marriage taking place in April, 1843. Longfellow’s beautiful letter of congratulation addressed to the “Chevalier” has been published elsewhere. I am glad to be able to give the one he wrote to our mother’s “Brother Sam.”

CAMBRIDGE, _March 6, 1843_.

MY DEAR SAM,—I ought to have written you long ago on the great event of our brave Chevalier’s conquering the Celestial City; but I have been away from home, and have moreover been hoping to see you here, and expecting to hear from you. The event did not surprise me; for the Chevalier is a mighty man of Love, and I noted that on the walls of the citadel (Julia’s cheeks) first the white flag would be displayed, and anon the red, and then again the white. The citadel could not have surrendered to a braver, better or more humane Knight.

Seriously, my dear Sam, and most sincerely do I rejoice in this event. Julia could not have chosen _more_ wisely—nor the Doctor _so_ wisely; and I think you may safely look forward to a serene and happy life for your sister. And so God speed them upon Life’s journey: “To the one be contenting enjoyments of his auspicious desires; to the other, a happy attendance of her chosen muses.”

I write you a very short note this morning, because I am going down to hear Sumnerius lecture in the Law School, on Ambassadors, Consuls, Peace & War, and other matters of International Law.

Write me soon—as soon as you can; and say that you are coming to Cambridge erelong. Life is short. We meet not often; and I am most sincerely,

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

My mother has described in her _Reminiscences_ the wonderful wedding-tour in Europe. In Rome, her eldest daughter, Julia Romana, was born. She fancied she saw, in the baby’s radiant little face, a reflection of the beautiful forms and faces she had so earnestly contemplated before the child’s coming. Other people saw it there in after-years. The exaltation of her mother’s spirit deeply influenced the mind and character of sister Julia, “the first-born daughter of a hero’s heart.” She was so unworldly that she did not know what worldliness was. Her lovely face and rapt upward look have, fortunately, been preserved by the pencil of our uncle, Luther Terry.

After a year and a half in Europe my parents returned to America. The European travel had been by post, in their own carriage. The tour had been expensive and economy was for a time necessary. My mother accordingly did some clerical work, thus earning the money for my baby-clothes.

I soon evinced a practical turn of mind, very different from that of my sister. The tendency to economy with which the family have sometimes reproached me is due, as I believe, to pre-natal influences. Perhaps it is also an inheritance from French ancestors!

STORIES TOLD US BY OUR PARENTS

_The Alarming Three Bears of the Howe Coat-of-arms.—Brutality at the Old Boston Latin School.—Boyish Mischief.—Papa’s Church.—Grandmother Cutler Rebukes Wemyss, the Biographer of Washington and Marion.—Grandfather Ward, His Liberality and His Stern Calvinism._

SOME one has said that it is hard to live under the shadow of a great name. It has been my great privilege and happiness to live, not under the shadow, but in the light of two honored names, those of my father and mother. They were honored and beloved because of their own love for and service to their fellow-men.

My father was nearly eighteen years older than my mother. He had had the responsibility and care of his young blind pupils for ten years before his marriage. Hence he was well fitted to take an active part in our training, especially as he dearly loved children. The absence in Europe, for more than a year, of my mother and the two younger children, Harry and Laura, brought Julia and myself under his care when we were respectively five and six years old. We thus early formed the habit of close companionship with him, to which, as the elder, we had special claim. Indeed, we all followed him about to such a degree that he once exclaimed jestingly, “Why, if I went and sat in the barn I believe you children would all follow me!”

The housekeeper who was with us in these early years would sometimes say, “You do not know what a good father you have.” Of course we did not. We knew that “Papa” made us his companions whenever he could possibly do so. We knew that as “a good physician” he bound up our small wounds and cared for us when we were sick. We knew that if we did wrong we must expect his firm yet gentle rebuke. Did he not tell me about a naughty little devil I had swallowed, bidding me open my mouth so that he could get hold of its tail and pull it out? Lessons of thrift and generosity he early inculcated. We received a penny for every horseshoe and for every pound of old iron we picked up about the place.

He constantly sent, by our hands, gifts of the delicious fruit of the garden to our schoolmates and to the blind children.

When our mother played the most delightful tunes for us to dance, Papa would join in the revels, occasionally pleading “a bone in his leg” as an excuse for stopping. Together they planned and carried out all sorts of schemes for our amusement and that of our little friends.

When, at a child’s party in midwinter, fireworks suddenly appeared outside the parlor window, the great kindness of our parents in doing so much for our amusement began to dawn upon my childish mind. Indeed, the Howe juvenile parties were thought very delightful by others besides ourselves.

Our parents told us stories of their youth, in which we were greatly interested. My father must have been a very small boy when he was alarmed by the Howe coat of arms—three bears with their tongues out. I fancy he came across this vision in the attic and that it was banished there by Grandfather Howe, who was a true Democrat.

Father also told us that the family was supposed to be related to that of Lord Howe. I find the same statement made in Farmer’s genealogy of the descendants of “John Howe of Watertown freeman 1640, son of John Howe of Hodinhull Warwickshire.”

Anecdotes of his school-days showed that my father, despite his feelings in the presence of the three bears, was a very courageous boy. At Latin School the master whipped him for some small fault, but could not succeed in his amiable intention of making the child cry, “though he whipped my hand almost to jelly.” His Federalist schoolmates were as brutal as their master. Because Sam Howe, almost the only Democrat in school, refused to abandon his principles, they threw him down-stairs.

Grandfather Howe lost a great deal of money by the failure of the United States government to pay him for the ropes and cordage which he, as a patriotic Democrat, supplied to them in large quantities during the War of 1812. Hence, when his son went to college, young Sam Howe helped to pay his way by teaching school in vacation. The country lads, some of whom were bigger than he, thought they could get the better of the new schoolmaster. He restored order by the simple but sometimes necessary process of knocking down the ringleader. The handsome young collegian found more difficulty in managing the girls!

He must have been very young when he assured his sister that the pump had a very agreeable taste on a frosty morning. The confiding girl followed his suggestion, but found it difficult to remove her tongue from the cold iron.

Among his many pranks at college, the most original was a nocturnal visit to a fellow-collegian who had a store of good things in his room. “Sam” Howe entered the window as a ghost and carried off a turkey. When the unfortunate owner of the feast waked up and looked out of the window, he saw a dim white figure rising in the air. Later on, the bones of the bird neatly picked were laid in front of his door. The boy was greatly worried and fully convinced that some supernatural being had visited his room. The affair so preyed on his mind that his fellow-students finally explained the joke.

Strange to say, my father did not have much patience with his son when brother Harry displayed at Harvard the same kind of mischievous ingenuity. They had both inherited this quality from Grandfather Howe if we may judge by the following story.

Having promised to pay Sammy a penny for every rat he caught, the old gentleman surreptitiously withdrew the rodents from the trap. But Sammy was quite equal to the occasion. He parried by making the same animal serve for several mornings, until his father exclaimed, “Sammy, that rat begins to smell!”

Grandfather Howe was very fond of building, a taste inherited by his descendants. When there was a question of his erecting a house on her property, his second wife said to him, “But your children would never permit it.” The old gentleman’s wavering resolve at once became fixed. He had no notion of listening to dictation from his sons and daughters. So he built the house, which, of course, became the property of our step-grandmother and went ultimately to her heirs, instead of to his own descendants, the Howes.

My father always cherished the memory of his own mother, Patty Gridley, who was a very beautiful woman, of a lovely and sympathetic nature.

He liked to see his daughters sitting at their needlework. “It reminds me of my mother,” he would say. He could not bear to see bread wasted, because of her early teachings of thrift. On the top of his father’s house, there had been a cask or vat into which the lees of wine were thrown and left to ferment into vinegar.

With our mother, also, we had a delightful comradeship. Having been brought up with undue strictness herself, she resolved that her children should not suffer in the same way. Hence we had a happy familiarity with our parents; yet we felt their superiority to ourselves. Mother taught us many things, after the fashion of mothers—lessons in the conduct of life and in social observance, of course. To be considerate of others, to enjoy small and simple pleasures, to take good things in moderation—these were a part of her philosophy. If we made a noise after the baby was asleep, we instantly heard her whispered warning, “Hush!” Indeed, it was an offense in her eyes to disturb any one’s rest.

Her efforts to teach us punctuality were not altogether successful. There were dreadful moments when sister Julia and I were so late in dressing for a party that Mamma would be reduced almost to despair. Sister Laura saw these things and, being a wise little maiden, resolved that when her turn came to go into society she would be punctual. She carried out her resolution.

When we were old enough, our mother took us to the Church of the Disciples, by my father’s desire. He himself went only occasionally, but then Papa had a church of his own, which we sometimes attended. In the great hall of the Institution for the Blind, he held at six o’clock every morning a brief service for the pupils. The deep reverence of his voice as he read a lesson from the Bible, the solemn tones of the organ, the sweetness and beauty of the fresh young voices as the blind larks suddenly burst forth into their morning hymn of praise, were things never to be forgotten. Truly Papa’s church was not like any other!