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Robert Browning (search for this): chapter 31
that I could not treat a memory so reverend with cheap and easy verses. I have tried to take his measure, and to present a picture of him which shall deserve to live. This poem appears in At Sunset. Mr. and Mrs. Cobden-Sanderson, the English suffragists, were in Boston this winter. They dined with her, and proved very agreeable. Mrs. Sanderson's visit ought to help suffrage mightily, she is in such dead earnest for it. After dinner I proposed that each one should name his favorite Browning poem. I named Pippa, Mrs. Sanderson Paracelsus, Mr. S., The Grammarian's Funeral, etc., etc. The talk was so good that we could not stop it to hear the Victor, which I regretted. Another delightful dinner of this winter was one given in her honor by her niece, Mrs. Richard Aldrich (Margaret Chanler), in New York. Among the guests were Kneisel, the violinist, and Schelling, the pianist. Mrs. Aldrich demanded Flibbertigibbet, and our mother played and recited it in such a manner that th
Norman Hapgood (search for this): chapter 31
erfect flood of rhymes seized me. Nonsense verses for to-morrow's festival; there seemed to be no end to them. I scrawled some of them down as it was late and dark. Sanborn to dine — unexpected, but always welcome. January 12. Copied and completed my lines for the evening. Found a large assemblage of members and invited guests [of the Authors' Club]; a dais and chair prepared for me, Colonel Higginson standing on my right. Many presentations — Gilder and Clyde Fitch, Owen Wister, Norman Hapgood. Aldrich [T. B.] took me in to dinner and sat on my right, Hon. John D. Long on my left; next beyond A. sat Homans Womans. Mrs. Charles Homans. I despaired of making my jingle tell in so large and unfamiliar a company. At last I took courage and read it, bad as I thought it. To my surprise, it told, and created the merriment which had been my object so far as I had any. My Battle Hymn was sung finely by a male quartette. Colonel Higginson and I were praised almost out of our senses
Michael Anagnos (search for this): chapter 31
s 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 egins 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 thi
Padre Roberto (search for this): chapter 31
h. Then I had a good inspiration for part of my speech, in which I mentioned the egg used by Columbus, and made to stand, to show that things held to be impossible often proved possible. I said that out of this egg was hatched the American Eagle. Madame Novelli shed tears at this, and Novelli kissed my hand. The Italian servants listened eagerly to all the speaking, and participated in the applause. President Geddes, Secretary Jocelyn, and others spoke well and rather briefly. Dear Padre Roberto was really eloquent. March 16.... In the evening to see Novelli in Morte Civile ; his personation wonderfully fine, surpassing even Salvini in the part.... March 17 .... Went to South Boston to say a word at the presentation of dear Michael's portrait to the Perkins Institution by the Howe Memorial Club. . . . Also had a wonderful fit of verse — wrote two sonnets to Dante and a versification of my conceit about the hatching of the American Eagle from the egg of Columbus. March 2
L. Beethoven (search for this): chapter 31
o to the piano and play from memory airs from Tancredi, I1 Pirata, Richard Coeur de lion, and other operas known to us only through her. Or she would — always without notes — play the Barber of Seville almost from beginning to end, with fingers still deft and nimble. She loved the older operas best. After an air from Don Giovanni, she would say, Mozart must be in heaven: they could never get on without him! She thought Handel's Messiah the most divine point reached by earthly music. Beethoven awed and swayed her deeply, and she often quoted his utterance while composing, Ich trat in der Ndhe Gottes! She thrilled with tender pleasure over Verdi's Non ti scordar, or Ai nostri monti, and over Martha. She enjoyed Chopin almost too much. He is exquisite, she would say, but somehow — rotten! Among the pleasures of this winter was a visit to, New York. She writes after it:-- My last day in my dear son's house. He and Fannie have been devotedly kind to me. They made me occup<
Clyde Fitch (search for this): chapter 31
when I lay down to rest a perfect flood of rhymes seized me. Nonsense verses for to-morrow's festival; there seemed to be no end to them. I scrawled some of them down as it was late and dark. Sanborn to dine — unexpected, but always welcome. January 12. Copied and completed my lines for the evening. Found a large assemblage of members and invited guests [of the Authors' Club]; a dais and chair prepared for me, Colonel Higginson standing on my right. Many presentations — Gilder and Clyde Fitch, Owen Wister, Norman Hapgood. Aldrich [T. B.] took me in to dinner and sat on my right, Hon. John D. Long on my left; next beyond A. sat Homans Womans. Mrs. Charles Homans. I despaired of making my jingle tell in so large and unfamiliar a company. At last I took courage and read it, bad as I thought it. To my surprise, it told, and created the merriment which had been my object so far as I had any. My Battle Hymn was sung finely by a male quartette. Colonel Higginson and I were prai
Ernest Schelling (search for this): chapter 31
uld not stop it to hear the Victor, which I regretted. Another delightful dinner of this winter was one given in her honor by her niece, Mrs. Richard Aldrich (Margaret Chanler), in New York. Among the guests were Kneisel, the violinist, and Schelling, the pianist. Mrs. Aldrich demanded Flibbertigibbet, and our mother played and recited it in such a manner that the two musicians were inspired to play, as the people in the story were to dance. Kneisel flew home for his violin, Schelling saSchelling sat down at the piano, and the two played Bach for her and to her delight. The occasion was memorable she says. Returning from New York, she was able to attend the Whittier Centennial at Haverhill. December 17.... Sanborn came to take me.... I have been praying to be well for this occasion, my last public engagement for some weeks. I am thankful to have been able, at my advanced age, to read this poem at the Whittier Celebration and to be assured by one present that I had never been in
Alighieri Dante (search for this): chapter 31
ated in the applause. President Geddes, Secretary Jocelyn, and others spoke well and rather briefly. Dear Padre Roberto was really eloquent. March 16.... In the evening to see Novelli in Morte Civile ; his personation wonderfully fine, surpassing even Salvini in the part.... March 17 .... Went to South Boston to say a word at the presentation of dear Michael's portrait to the Perkins Institution by the Howe Memorial Club. . . . Also had a wonderful fit of verse — wrote two sonnets to Dante and a versification of my conceit about the hatching of the American Eagle from the egg of Columbus. March 23. A boot-and-saddle day.... I found that my Authors' Club will meet to-day in Cambridge. Higginson telephoned, asking me to speak of Aldrich; I asked permission to leave the College Club after the speaking. Ordered a carriage at 4.30, sprang into it, and reached the Authors' meeting in good time to say something about Aldrich.... Found a man who has studied the Berber races in A
Charlotte Cushman (search for this): chapter 31
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
Charles G. Ames (search for this): chapter 31
onvention. I asked God in my prayer this morning to make going possible or impossible for me. I took C. G. A.'s letter as making it impossible, as I had decided to abide by his decision. Wrote a letter of explanation to Anna Garlin Spencer. I am much disappointed, but it is a relief not to cause Laura such painful anxiety as she would have felt if I had decided to go. She wept with joy when I gave it up. We had a very pleasant dinner party for the Barrett Wendells with their friends, Professor Ames, of Berkeley University, California, Waddy Longfellow, Charles Gibson, Laura, Betty, and I. She sent a letter to the Convention, which was read by Florence. In this, after recalling her Peace Crusade of 1872, she said:-- Here and there, a sisterly voice responded to my appeal, but the greater number said: We have neither time nor money that we can call our own. We cannot travel, we cannot meet together. And so my intended Peace Congress of Women melted away like a dream, and my
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