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John Elliott (search for this): chapter 22
avi was the general answer. And she's pop'lar, she is. Little fourteen-year-olds keep a-coming and a-coming. And I draws her bath, and tucks her up in bed. And she's having a splendid time. And I want some more of this paper. And my feelings won't allow me to say any more. No — my dearest sweetest pug pie, your darling won't be forgotten for a moment. We could n't get at the lessons before, and last week, like strong drink, was raging. 'fectionate Ma. Maud was now engaged to John Elliott, a young Scottish painter, whose acquaintance they had made in Europe in 1878. The marriage took place on February 7, 1887. Though there were many periods of separation, the Elliotts, when in this country, made their home for the most part with our mother. The affection between her and her son-in-law was deep; his devotion to her constant. Through the years that were to follow, the comradeship of the three was hardly less intimate than that of the two had been. The Journal carries
Ralph Waldo Emerson (search for this): chapter 22
len she wrote this summer a careful study of Dante and Beatrice, for the Concord School of Philosophy. This was a summer school of ten years (1879-88) in which Emerson, Alcott, and W. T. Harris took part. July 20 found her at Concord, where she and Julia had been wont to go together. She says, I cannot think of the sittings of many tourists present. The Mormons mostly an ill-looking and ill-smelling crowd. Bishop Whitney, a young man, preached a cosmopolite sermon, quoting Milton and Emerson. He spoke of the Christian Church with patronizing indulgence; insisted upon the doctrine of immediate and personal revelation, and censured the Mormons for somepan was Caroline Sturgis, daughter of Captain William Sturgis, and sister of Ellen (Sturgis) Hooper,--member of the inmost Transcendentalist circle, and friend of Emerson, Ellery Channing, and Margaret Fuller. I desire to set my house in order, and be ready for my departure; thankful to live, or willing to cease from my mortal life
Eumenides (search for this): chapter 22
the Authors' Reading for the Longfellow Memorial in the Boston Museum, reciting Our orders and the Battle Hymn, with her lines to Longfellow recently composed. I wore my velvet gown, my mother's lace, Uncle Sam's Saint Esprit, and did my best, as did all the others. The next day she speaks at a suffrage meeting in Providence, and makes this comment:-- Woman suffrage represents individual right, integral humanity, ideal justice. I spoke of the attitude and action of Minerva in the Eumenides; Cf. Aeschylus. her resistance to the Furies, who I said personified popular passion fortified by ancient tradition; her firm stand for a just trial, and her casting the decisive ballot. I hoped that this would prefigure a great life-drama in which this gracious prophecy would be realized. In a good talk with Miss Eddy, Miss Sarah J. Eddy, then of Providence, a granddaughter of Francis Jackson. she devises a correspondence and circular to obtain information concerning art clubs
Margaret Fuller (search for this): chapter 22
ging solemn thoughts of the uncertainty of life, and sorrow for such misuse of its great gifts and opportunities as I am well conscious of. This has been a good year to me. It carried me to the Pacific slope, and showed me indeed a land of promise. It gave me an unexpected joy in the harmonious feelings toward me and the members of A. A.W. at the Detroit Congress. It has, alas! taken from me my dear pastor, most precious to me for help and instruction, and other dear and valued friends, notably Sarah Shaw Russell, Mrs. George Russell, widow of the Doctor's friend and college chum. Abby W. May and Carrie Tappan. Caroline Tappan was Caroline Sturgis, daughter of Captain William Sturgis, and sister of Ellen (Sturgis) Hooper,--member of the inmost Transcendentalist circle, and friend of Emerson, Ellery Channing, and Margaret Fuller. I desire to set my house in order, and be ready for my departure; thankful to live, or willing to cease from my mortal life when God so wills. . .
Mary Graves (search for this): chapter 22
such thing. If this is not the right thing, she said, call another priestess; then, very emphatically: Truth, truth. These were her last words. My darling should have been forty-two years old this day.... A few days later she writes to Mary Graves:-- I am not wild, nor melancholy, nor inconsolable, but I feel as America might if some great, fair State were blotted from its map, leaving only a void for the salt and bitter sea to overwhelm. I cannot, so far, get any comfort from otherliction. I pray God to give me comfort by raising me up that I may be ZZZ Michael. nearer to the higher life into which she and her deai father have passed. And thou? eleison.... Have had an uplifting of soul to-day. Have written to Mary Graves: I am at last getting to stand where I can have some spiritual outlook. The confusion of is not is giving place to the steadfastness of is. Have embodied my thoughts in a poem to my dear Julia and in some pages which I may read at the meetin
W. T. Harris (search for this): chapter 22
ls are with us when we contend against the extreme of calamity. Heavy as this affliction was, it brought none of the paralysis of grief caused by Sammy's death: rather, as after the passing of the Chevalier, she was urged by the thought of her dead child to more and higher efforts. In the quiet of Oak Glen she wrote this summer a careful study of Dante and Beatrice, for the Concord School of Philosophy. This was a summer school of ten years (1879-88) in which Emerson, Alcott, and W. T. Harris took part. July 20 found her at Concord, where she and Julia had been wont to go together. She says, I cannot think of the sittings of the School without a vision of the rapt expression of her face as she sat and listened to the various speakers. Reminiscences, p. 440. Spite of her grief in missing this sweet companionship she found the sessions of the School deeply interesting. She was much more nervous than usual about her lecture; which really sounded a good deal better than it
Frederick Hedge (search for this): chapter 22
able breakfast at Cleveland, and a bad dinner at Buffalo, but dry your eyes, the strawberry shortcake was uncommonly good. And think how good it is that I have got through with it all and can now rest good and handsome. The summer entries in the Journal are varied and picturesque. My cow, of which I was fond, was found dead this morning. ... My neighbor Almy was very kind. ... I feel this a good deal, but complaining will not help matters. Mr. Bancroft [George], historian, brought Dr. Hedge to call after dinner. Mr. B. kissed me on both cheeks for the first time in his life. We had a very pleasant and rather brilliant talk, as might have been expected where such men meet. She writes to Maud:-- Mr. Alger seized upon my left ear metaphorically and emptied into it all the five-syllable words that he knew, and the result was a mingling of active and passive lunacy, for I almost went mad and he had not far to go in that direction. And again; apropos of-- : How the great
Hinds (search for this): chapter 22
driver. Presently he said, I guess you ain't so old as I be. I replied, I am pretty well on toward seventy. Well, I am five years beyond, said he. He drives an accommodation wagon between Perrysburg and Versailles, a small town where a man once wanted to set up a mill, and to buy land and water power, and they would n't sell either. Whereupon he went to Tonawanda and made the place. Guess they'd have done better to gin him the land and water, and to set up his mill for him, said my man, Hinds. On this trip she saw the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, taking the seven-mile walk; went as far as Kansas City; was received everywhere with delightful warmth. To Laura December 1, 1886. You see, I was waiting for the winter to begin, in order to write you, and that you ought to have known. But bless you, in Gardiner, Maine, you don't know when real Winter begins, 'cause you have so much sham winter. Well, better late than never. Here's thanking you very much for the delightful [tea]
Sam Hooper (search for this): chapter 22
nging solemn thoughts of the uncertainty of life, and sorrow for such misuse of its great gifts and opportunities as I am well conscious of. This has been a good year to me. It carried me to the Pacific slope, and showed me indeed a land of promise. It gave me an unexpected joy in the harmonious feelings toward me and the members of A. A.W. at the Detroit Congress. It has, alas! taken from me my dear pastor, most precious to me for help and instruction, and other dear and valued friends, notably Sarah Shaw Russell, Mrs. George Russell, widow of the Doctor's friend and college chum. Abby W. May and Carrie Tappan. Caroline Tappan was Caroline Sturgis, daughter of Captain William Sturgis, and sister of Ellen (Sturgis) Hooper,--member of the inmost Transcendentalist circle, and friend of Emerson, Ellery Channing, and Margaret Fuller. I desire to set my house in order, and be ready for my departure; thankful to live, or willing to cease from my mortal life when God so wills. . .
Julia Ward Howe (search for this): chapter 22
nd reading. She works hard to finish her paper on Women in the Three Professions, Law, Medicine, and Theology, for the Chautauquan. Very tired afterwards. She speaks at the Newport Opera House with Mrs. Livermore (who said she did not know Mrs. Howe could speak so well); she takes part in the Authors' Reading for the Longfellow Memorial in the Boston Museum, reciting Our orders and the Battle Hymn, with her lines to Longfellow recently composed. I wore my velvet gown, my mother's lace, of Perabo, who was really interesting and remarkable. At one of the hospitable cities, a gentleman asked her to drive with him, drove her about for a couple of hours, descanting upon the beauties of the place, and afterwards proclaimed that Mrs. Howe was the most agreeable woman he had ever met. And I never once opened my lips! she said. On June 10 she preached in Oakland: the one sermon which I have felt like preaching in these parts: Thou art Peter, and upon this rock. The hou
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