Julia Ward Howe - Richards Laura E. (бесплатная регистрация книга TXT) 📗

"The reason why a little knowledge is dangerous is that your conceit of it may make you refuse to learn more."

She was writing a paper on Mrs. Stowe and "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and worked hard over it. The pace began to tell.

She spoke for the friends of Russian freedom, "a warm speech, almost without preparation. I knew that I should find my inspiration in the occasion itself. I had almost a spasm of thankfulness to Almighty God for the opportunity to speak for such a cause at such a time."

At the suffrage hearing soon after, she "spoke of the force of inertia as divinely ordained and necessary, but ordained, too, to be overcome by the onward impulse which creates worlds, life, and civilization. Said it was this inertia which opposed suffrage, the dread of change inherent in masses, material or moral, etc., etc."

Among her winter delights were the "Longy" concerts of instrumental music. She writes of one:—

"Was carried away by the delight of the music—all wind instruments. A trio of Handel for bassoon and two oboes was most solid and beautiful.... I could think of nothing but Shakespeare's 'Tempest' and 'Midsummer Night's Dream.' The thought that God had set all human life and work to music overpowered me, and coming home I had a rhapsody of thanksgiving for the wonderful gift...."

The next day came an entertainment in aid of Atlanta University and Calhoun School; she "enjoyed this exceedingly, especially the plantation songs, which are of profoundest pathos, mixed with overpowering humor. It was pleasant, too, to see the audience in which descendants of the old anti-slavery folk formed quite a feature. I had worked hard at the screed which was, I think, good. Heard interesting reports of mission work in our entire South."

At the Authors' Club she met Israel Zangwill, who was "rather indifferent" when introduced to her. She thought he probably knew nothing about her, and adds,—

"It is good perhaps to be taken down, now and then."

In March she attended a hearing in connection with the School Board. "The chair most courteously invited me to speak, saying, 'There is here a venerable lady who will hardly be likely to come here again for the present discussion, so I shall give her the remaining time.' Whereupon I leaped into the arena and said my say."

She had been for some time toiling over a paper on the "Noble Women of the Civil War," finding it hard and fatiguing work. On April 5 she writes:—

"At 12 M. I had finished my screed on the 'Noble Women of the Civil War' which has been my nightmare ever since March 24, when I began it, almost despairing of getting it done.... I have written very carefully and have had some things to say which may, I hope, do good. I can now take up many small tasks which have had to give way to this one...."

"April 9. The Greek celebration. The Greek Papa, in full costume, intoned the Doxology and the assembly all sang solemn anthems. Michael introduced me first. My speech was short, but had been carefully prepared. At the request of the Papa I said at the end: 'Zeto ton Ellenikon ethnos.' My speech and Greek sentence were much applauded. A young Greek lady presented me with a fine bouquet of white carnations with blue and white ribbons, the colors of Greece. Sanborn read from dear Chev's letters of 1825. Michael spoke at great length, with great vehemence and gesticulation. I understood many words, but could only guess at the general drift. I imagine that it was very eloquent, as he was much applauded."

"April 30. Lorin Deland called to talk about the verses which I am to write and read at his theatre. The thought of Cassandra seized me. She, coming to the house of the Atrid?, had a vision of its horrors; I, coming to this good theatre, have a vision of the good things which have been enjoyed there and which shall still be enjoyed. Wrote down some five or six lines, 'lest I forget.'"

Mr. and Mrs. Deland were among her best friends of the second generation. Indeed, there was such a sympathy and comprehension between her and "Margaret" that the latter playfully declared herself a daughter abandoned in infancy, and was wont to sign herself, "Your doorstep Brat"!

"May 5.... 'Without religion you will never know the real beauty and glory of life; you will perceive the discords, but miss the harmony; will see the defects, but miss the good in all things.'"

In these years an added burden was laid upon her, in the general and affectionate desire for her presence on all manner of occasions. The firemen must have her at their ball, the Shoe and Leather Trade at their banquet, the Paint and Oils Association at their dinner. Their festivities would not be complete without her; she loved them, went to their parties, had the right word to say, and came home happy, her arms full of flowers.

It was all beautiful and heart-warming, but it had to be paid for. May 10 brought the punishment for this season.

"Annual Woman Suffrage supper. I was to have spoken at this occasion and to have recited the poem which I wrote for Castle Square Theatre, but it was otherwise ordained. I rose as usual, my head a little misty. A mighty blow of vertigo seized me.... The elder Wesselhoeft pronounced it a 'brain fag,' not likely to have serious results, but emphatically a warning not to abuse further my nervous strength. Got up in afternoon and finished 'Villa Claudia'; was bitterly sad at disappointing the suffragists and Deland."

Dr. Wesselhoeft was asked on this occasion why, at her age, so severe an attack as this had not resulted in paralysis. "Because," he replied, "she brought to receive it the strength of forty years of age!"

Sure enough, the next day she felt as if her "nervous balance was very well restored," and in a week she was at work again.

"May 18.... In the evening had word of a Decoration Day poem needed. At once tried some lines."

"May 19. Doubted much of my poem, but wrote it, spending most of the working hours over it; wrote and rewrote, corrected again and again. Julia Richards mailed it at about 4 P.M.... Just as I went to bed I remembered that in the third verse of my poem I had used the words 'tasks' and 'erect' as if they rhymed. This troubled me a good deal. My prayer was, 'God help the fool.'"

"May 20. My trouble of mind about the deficient verse woke me at 6.30 A.M. I tossed about and wondered how I could lie still until 7.30, my usual time for rising. The time passed somehow. I could not think of any correction to make in my verse. Hoped that I should find that I had not written it as I feared. When I came to look at it, there it was. Instantly a line with a proper rhyme presented itself to my mind. To add to my trouble I had lost the address to which I had sent the poem. My granddaughter, Julia Richards, undertook to interview the Syndicate by long-distance telephone, and, failing this, to telegraph the new line for me. So I left all in her hands. When I returned, she met me with a smile and said, 'It is all right, Grandmother.' She had gone out, found a New York directory, guessed at the Syndicate, got the correspondent, and put her in possession of the new line. I was greatly relieved. I have been living lately with work running after me all the time. Must now have a breathing spell. Have still my 'Simplicity' screed to complete."

The Authors' Club celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday by a charming festival, modelled on the Welsh Eistedfodd, "at which every bard of that nation brought four lines of verse—a sort of four-leaved clover—to his chief."[146] Sixty quatrains made what she calls "an astonishing testimonial of regard." Colonel Higginson, who presided most charmingly, read many of these tributes aloud, and the Birthday Queen responded in a rhyme scribbled hastily the day before. Here are a few of the tributes, together with her "reply":—