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Maria Weston Chapman (search for this): chapter 9
s most frequently named as prominent abolitionists, in connection with Mr. Garrison, were Maria Weston Chapman and Wendell Phillips. Mrs. Chapman presided with much energy and grace over the anti-sMrs. Chapman presided with much energy and grace over the anti-slavery bazaars which were held annually in Boston through a long space of years. For this labor of love she was somewhat decried, and the sobriquet of Captain Chapman was given her in derision. SheCaptain Chapman was given her in derision. She was handsome and rather commanding in person, endowed also with an excellent taste in dress. I cannot remember that she ever spoke in public, but her presence often adorned the platform at anti-slameeting had been announced, and a scheme had been devised to break it up. As I entered I met Mrs. Chapman, who said, These are times in which anti-slavery people must stand by each other. On the pla at their hands. The doors presently opened, and Phillips came forth, walking calmly between Mrs. Chapman and Lydia Maria Child. Not a hand was raised, not a threat was uttered. The crowd gave way
Harriet Martineau (search for this): chapter 9
olitical efficiency had begun to occupy the attention and divide the feeling of the American public. When, after the close of the civil war, the question was again brought forward, with a new zeal and determination, Mr. Phillips gave it the great support of his eloquence, and continued through a long course of years to be one of its most earnest advocates. The last time that I heard Wendell Phillips speak in public was in December, 1883, at the unveiling of Miss Whitney's statue of Harriet Martineau, in the Old South Meeting-House. Mrs. Livermore was one of the speakers of the occasion. When the stated exercises were at an end, she said to me, Let us thank Mr. Phillips for what he has just said. We shall not have him with us long. I expressed surprise at this, and she said further, He has heart disease, and is far from well. Soon after this followed his death, and the splendid public testimonial given in his honor. I was one of those admitted to the funeral exercises, in whi
John Sullivan Dwight (search for this): chapter 9
ess of sin and death. These good things were brought to us piecemeal, by translations, by disciples. Dr. Hedge published an English rendering of some of the masterpieces of German prose. Longfellow gave us lovely versions of many poets. John S. Dwight produced his ever precious volume of translations of the minor poems of Goethe and Schiller. Margaret Fuller translated Eckermann's Conversations with Goethe. Carlyle wrote his wonderful essays, inspired by the new thought, and adding to itbout him, I always find in the end that I have been mistaken,—that her judgment was correct. Parker's ideal of culture included a knowledge of music. His endeavors to attain this were praiseworthy, but unsuccessful. I have heard the late John S. Dwight relate that when he was a student in Harvard Divinity School, Parker, who was then his fellow student, desired to be taught to sing the notes of the musical scale. Dwight volunteered to give him lessons, and began, as is usual, by striking
Mary Livermore (search for this): chapter 9
tion and divide the feeling of the American public. When, after the close of the civil war, the question was again brought forward, with a new zeal and determination, Mr. Phillips gave it the great support of his eloquence, and continued through a long course of years to be one of its most earnest advocates. The last time that I heard Wendell Phillips speak in public was in December, 1883, at the unveiling of Miss Whitney's statue of Harriet Martineau, in the Old South Meeting-House. Mrs. Livermore was one of the speakers of the occasion. When the stated exercises were at an end, she said to me, Let us thank Mr. Phillips for what he has just said. We shall not have him with us long. I expressed surprise at this, and she said further, He has heart disease, and is far from well. Soon after this followed his death, and the splendid public testimonial given in his honor. I was one of those admitted to the funeral exercises, in which friends spoke of him most lovingly. I also saw
Ralph Waldo Emerson (search for this): chapter 9
aret Fuller, holding high communion with her friends in her wellremembered conversations; Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was then breaking ground in the field of his subsequent great reputation; and many ale the Rev. Andrews Norton regarded her with holy horror. Another illustrated a passage from Mr. Emerson's essay on Nature—I play upon myself. I am my own music—by depicting an individual with a noFuller, That young lady does not speak the same language that I do,—I cannot understand her. Mr. Emerson's English was as new to me as that of any of his contemporaries; but in his case I soon felt n-committal letter, in reply to the invitation sent him to take part in the convention. Ralph Waldo Emerson, he said, had excused himself from attendance on the ground that he was occupied in writie in spirit, although somewhat startling in its conclusions. At that time the remembrance of Mr. Emerson's Phi Beta address was fresh in my mind. This discourse of Parker's was a second glimpse of <
Passion Flowers (search for this): chapter 9
uth America. I cannot remember just when it was that an English visitor, who brought a letter of introduction to my husband, spoke to me of the Bothie of Toper-na-Fuosich and its author, Arthur Hugh Clough. The gentleman was a graduate of Oxford or of Cambridge. He came to our house several times, and I consulted him with regard to the classic rhythms, in which he was well versed. I had it in mind at this time to write a poem in classic rhythm. It was printed in my first volume, Passion Flowers; and Mr. Sanborn, in an otherwise very friendly review of my work, characterized as pitiable hexameters the lines which were really not hexameters at all, nor intended to pass for such. They were pentameters constructed according to my own ideas; I did not have in view any special school or rule. I soon had the pleasure of reading the Bothie, which I greatly admired. While it was fresh in my mind Mr. Clough arrived in Boston, furnished with excellent letters of introduction both fo
William W. Story (search for this): chapter 9
mbrance is that of Charles Sumner, senator and martyr. When I first saw him I was still a girl in my father's house, from which the father had then but recently passed. My eldest brother, Samuel Ward, had made Mr. Sumner's acquaintance through a letter of introduction given to the latter by Mr. Longfellow. At his suggestion we invited Mr. Sumner to pass a quiet evening at our house, promising him a little music. Our guest had but recently returned from England, where letters from Chief Justice Story had given him access both to literary and to aristocratic circles. His appearance was at that time rather singular. He was very tall and erect, and the full suit of black which he wore added to the effect of his height and slenderness of figure. Of his conversation, I remember chiefly that he held the novels of Walter Scott in very light esteem, and that he quoted with approbation Sir Adam Ferguson as having said that Manzoni's Promessi Sposi was worth more than all of Sir Walter's
Tibullus (search for this): chapter 9
r in their natural endowments. Phillips had a temperament of fire, while that of Sumner was cold and sluggish. Phillips had a great gift of simplicity, and always made a bee line for the central point of interest in the theme which he undertook to present. Sumner was recondite in language and elaborate in style. He was much of a student, and abounded in quotations. In his senatorial days, I once heard a satirical lady mention him as the moral flummery member from Massachusetts, quoting Tibullus! The first political speech which I heard from Mr. Sumner was delivered, if I mistake not, at a schoolhouse in the neighborhood of Boston. I found his oratory somewhat overloud and emphatic for the small hall and limited attendance. He had not at that time found his proper audience. When he was heard, later on, in Faneuil Hall or Tremont Temple, the ringing roll of his voice was very effective. His gestures were forcible rather than graceful. In argument he would go over the same g
Horace Wallace (search for this): chapter 9
e and found the family somewhat impatient of the unwonted delay, I cried, Let no one find fault! I have heard the greatest thing that I shall ever hear! At the time of the attempted rendition of the fugitive slave Shadrach a meeting was held in the Melodeon, at which various speakers gave utterance to the indignation which aroused the whole community. Parker had been the prime mover in calling this meeting. He had written for it some verses to be sung to the tune of Scots wha hae wia Wallace bled, and he made the closing and most important address. It was on this occasion that I first saw Colonel Higginson, who was then known as the Rev. Thomas Wentworth Higginson, pastor of a religious society in Worcester, Mass. The part assigned to him in the exercises was to read portions of Scripture appropriate to the day. This he did with excellent effect. Parker, in the course of his address, held up a torn coat, and said, This is the coat of our brother Shadrach, reverting in his min
Bell (search for this): chapter 9
esided with much energy and grace over the anti-slavery bazaars which were held annually in Boston through a long space of years. For this labor of love she was somewhat decried, and the sobriquet of Captain Chapman was given her in derision. She was handsome and rather commanding in person, endowed also with an excellent taste in dress. I cannot remember that she ever spoke in public, but her presence often adorned the platform at anti-slavery meetings. She was the editor of the Liberty Bell, and was a valued friend and ally of Wendell Phillips. Of Mr. Phillips I must say that I at first regarded him through the same veil of prejudice which had caused me so greatly to misconceive the character of Mr. Garrison. I was a little softened by hearing that at one of the bazaars he had purchased a copy of my first volume of poems, with the remark, She does n't like me, but I like her poetry. This naturally led me to suppose that he must have some redeeming traits of character. I ha
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