Текст книги "Julia Ward Howe"

Автор книги: Laura E. Richards

Соавторы: Maud Howe Elliott
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As her eightieth birthday drew nigh, her friends vied with one another in loving observance of the time. The festivities began May 17 with a meeting of the New England Women's Press Association, where she gave a lecture on "Patriotism in Literature" and received "eighty beautiful pink roses for my eighty years."

Next came the "annual meeting and lunch of the New England Woman's Club. This took the character of a pre-celebration of my eightieth birthday, and was highly honorific. I can only say that I do not think of myself as the speakers seemed to think of me. Too deeply do I regret my seasons of rebellion, and my shortcomings in many duties. Yet am I thankful for so much good-will. I only deserve it because I return it."

Between this and the day itself came a memorial meeting in honor of the ninety-sixth anniversary of Emerson's birth. Here she spoke "mostly of the ladies of his family"—Emerson's mother and his wife. Said also, "Emerson was as great in what he did not say as in what he said. Second-class talent tells the whole story, reasons everything out; great genius suggests even more than it says."

She was already what she used to call "Boston's old spoiled child!" All through the birthday flowers, letters, and telegrams poured into the house. From among the tokens of love and reverence may be chosen the quatrain sent by Richard Watson Gilder:—

"How few have rounded out so full a life!

Priestess of righteous war and holy peace,

Poet and sage, friend, sister, mother, wife,

Long be it ere that noble heart shall cease!"

The "Woman's Journal" issued a special Birthday number. It was a lovely and heart-warming anniversary, the pleasure of which long remained with her.

Among the guests was the beloved physician of many years, William P. Wesselhoeft. Looking round on the thronged and flower-decked rooms, he said, "This is all very fine, Mrs. Howe; but on your ninetieth birthday I shall come, and nobody else!" Alas! before that day the lion voice was silent, the cordial presence gone.

Three days later came an occasion which stirred patriotic Boston to its depths. The veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic had invited Major-General Joseph Wheeler to deliver the Memorial Day oration in Boston Theatre. Our mother was the second guest of honor. She has nothing to say of this occasion beyond the fact that she "had a great time in the morning," and that in the open carriage with her sat "General Wheeler's two daughters—very pleasing girls"; but pasted in the Journal is the following clipping from the "Philadelphia Press":—

BOSTON WARMED UP

The Major has just returned from Boston, where he was present at the Memorial Day services held in Boston Theatre.

It was the real thing. I never imagined possible such a genuine sweeping emotion as when that audience began to sing the "Battle Hymn." If Boston was cold, it was thawed by the demonstration on Tuesday. Myron W. Whitney started to sing. He bowed to a box, in which we first recognized Mrs. Howe, sitting with the Misses Wheeler. You should have heard the yell. We could see the splendid white head trembling; then her voice joined in, as Whitney sang, "In the beauty of the lilies," and by the time he had reached the words,—

"As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,"—

the whole vast audience was on its feet, sobbing and singing at the top of its thousands of lungs. If volunteers were really needed for the Philippines, McKinley could have had us all right there.

The same evening she went "to Unitarian meeting in Tremont Temple, where read my screed about Governor Andrew, which has cost me some work and more anxiety. Rev. S. A. Eliot, whom I saw for the first time, was charmingly handsome and friendly. I was introduced as 'Saint Julia' and the whole audience rose when I came forward to read. Item: I had dropped my bag with my manuscript in the carriage, but Charles Fox telephoned to the stable and got it for me."

The spring of this year saw an epidemic of negro-lynching, which roused deep indignation throughout the country. On May 20 the Journal records "a wonderful meeting at Chickering Hall, called by the colored women of Boston, to protest against the lynching of negroes in the South. Mrs. Butler M. Wilson presided, an octoroon and a woman of education. Her opening address was excellent in spirit and in execution. A daughter of Mrs. Ruffin also wrote an excellent address: Mrs. Cheney's was very earnest and impressive. Alice Freeman Palmer spoke as I have never before heard her. My rather brief speech was much applauded, as were indeed all of the others. Mrs. Richard Hallowell was on the platform and introduced Mrs. Wilson."

This brief speech brought upon her a shower of letters, mostly anonymous, from persons who saw only the anti-negro side of this matter, so dreadful in every aspect. These letters were often denunciatory, sometimes furious in tone, especially one addressed to

Mrs. Howe, Negro Sympathizer,

Boston.

This grieved her, but she did not cease to lift up her voice against the evil thing whenever occasion offered.

"July 7. Oak Glen. ... My son and his wife came over from Bristol to pass the day. He looks as young as my grandsons do. At fifty, his hair is blond, without gray, and his forehead unwrinkled."

"July 16. ... While in church I had a new thought of the energy and influence of Christ's teaching. 'Ask and ye shall receive,' etc. These little series of commands all incite the hearers to action: Ask, seek, knock. I should love to write a sermon on this, but fear my sermonizing days are over, alas!"

"August 7. Determined to do more literary work daily than I have been doing lately. Began a screed about dear Bro' Sam, feeling that he deserved a fuller mention than I have already given him...."

"September 4. Discouraged over the confusion of my papers, the failure of printers to get on with my book, and my many bills. Have almost had an attack of the moral sickness which the Italians call Achidia. I suppose it to mean indifference and indolence...."

To Laura

Oak Glen, September 6, 1899.

... Here's a question. Houghton and Mifflin desire to print[127] the rough draft of my "Battle Hymn," which they borrowed, with some difficulty, from Charlotte Whipple, who begged it of me, years ago. I hesitate to allow it, because it contains a verse which I discarded, as not up to the rest of the poem. It will undoubtedly be an additional attraction for the volume....

"September 7. Have attacked my proofs fiercely...."

To Laura

Oak Glen, September 16, 1899.

Yours received, très chère. Why not consult Hays Gardiner[128] about printing the original draft of the "Hymn"? Win's[129] opinion would be worth having, also. I think I shall consult E. E. Hale, albeit the two just named would be more fastidious.[130]

"October 21. My last moments in this dear place. The past season appears to me like a gift of perfect jewels. I pray that the winter may have in store for me some good work and much dear and profitable companionship. I must remember that this may be my last summer here, or anywhere on earth, but must bear in mind that it is best to act with a view to prolonged life, since without this outlook, it is very hard for us to endeavor or to do our best. Peace be with you, beautiful summer and autumn. Amen."

She was never ready to leave Oak Glen; the town house always seemed at first like a prison.

"October 23. Boston. A drizzly, dark day. I struggled out twice, saying to myself: 'It is for your life.'..."

"October 24. Have had two days of chaos and discouragement...."

"October 27. A delightful and encouraging conference of A.A.W. held in my parlors. The prevailing feeling was that we should not disband, but should hold on to our association and lie by, hoping to find new innings for work. Florida was spoken of as good ground for us. I felt much cheered and quickened by the renewal of old friendships...."

A Western lecture trip had been planned for this autumn, but certain untoward symptoms developed and Dr. Wesselhoeft said, "No! no! not even if you had not had vertigo." She gave it up most reluctantly, confiding only to the Journal the hope that she might be able to go later.

"November 9. Celebration of dear Chev's birthday at the Institution. I spoke of the New Testament word about the mustard seed, so small but producing such a stately tree. I compared this little seed to a benevolent impulse in the mind of S. G. H. and the Institution to a tree. 'What is smaller than a human heart? What seems weaker than a good intention? Yet the good intention, followed by the faithful heart, has produced this great refuge in which many generations have already found the way to a life of educated usefulness.'..."

"November 19.... Before the sermon I had prayed for some good thought of God. This came to me in the shape of a sudden perception to this effect: 'I am in the Father's house already.'..."

"November 30.... In giving thanks to-day, I made my only personal petitions, which were first, that some of my dear granddaughters might find suitable husbands, ... and lastly, that I might serve in some way until the last breath leaves my body...."

"December 16. I had greatly desired to see the 'Barber.' Kind Mrs. [Alfred] Batcheller made it possible by inviting me to go with her. The performance was almost if not quite bouffe. Sembrich's singing marvellous, the acting of the other characters excellent, and singing very good, especially that of De Reszke and Campanari. I heard the opera in New York more than seventy years ago, when Malibran, then Signorina Garcia, took the part of Rosina."

"December 31.... 'Advertiser' man came with a query: 'What event in 1899 will have the greatest influence in the world's history?' I replied, 'The Czar's Peace Manifesto, leading to the Conference at The Hague.'"

November, 1899, saw the birth of another institution from which she was to derive much pleasure, the Boston Authors' Club. Miss Helen M. Winslow first evolved the idea of such a club. After talking with Mmes. May Alden Ward and Mabel Loomis Todd, who urged her to carry out the project, she went to see the "Queen of Clubs." "Go ahead!" said our mother. "Call some people together here, at my house, and we will form a club, and it will be a good one too."

The Journal of November 23 says:—

"Received word from Helen Winslow of a meeting of literary folks called for to-morrow morning at my house."

This meeting was "very pleasant: Mrs. Ward, Miss Winslow, Jacob Strauss, and Hezekiah Butterworth attended—later Herbert Ward came in."

It was voted to form the Boston Authors' Club, and at a second meeting in December the club was duly organized.

In January the Authors' Club made its first public appearance in a meeting and dinner at Hotel Vendôme, Mrs. Howe presiding, Colonel Higginson (whom she described as her "chief Vice") beside her.

The brilliant and successful course of the Authors' Club need not be dwelt on here. Her connection with it was to continue through life, and its monthly meetings and annual dinners were among her pet pleasures. She was always ready to "drop into rhyme" in its service, the Muse in cap and bells being oftenest invoked: e.g., the verses written for the five hundredth anniversary of Chaucer's death:—

Poet Chaucer had a sister,

He, the wondrous melodister.

She didn't write no poems, oh, no!

Brother Geoffrey trained her so.

Honored by the poet's crown,

Her posterity came down.

*        *        *        *        *        *

Ages of ancestral birth

Went for all that they were worth.

Hence derives the Wentworth name

Which heraldic ranks may claim.

That same herald has contrived

How the Higginson arrived.

He was gran-ther to the knight

In whose honor I indite

Burning strophes of the soul

'propriate to the flowing bowl.

Oft the worth I have defended

Of the Laureate-descended,

But while here he sits and winks

I can tell you what he thinks.

"Never, whether old or young,

Will that woman hold her tongue!

Fifty years in Boston schooled,

Still I find her rhyme-befooled.

Oft in earnest, oft in jest,

We have met and tried our best.

Nought I dread an open field,

I can conquer, I can yield,

Self from foes I can defend,

But Heav'n preserve us from our friend!"

She and her "chief Vice" were always making merry together; when their flint and steel struck, the flash was laughter. It may have been at the Authors' Club that the two, with Edward Everett Hale and Dr. Holmes, were receiving compliments and tributes one afternoon.

"At least," she cried, "no one can say that Boston drops its H's!"

This was in the winter of 1900. It was the time of the Boer War, and all Christendom was sorrowing over the conflict. On January 3 the Journal says:—

"This morning before rising, I had a sudden thought of the Christ-Babe standing between the two armies, Boers and Britons, on Christmas Day. I have devoted the morning to an effort to overtake the heavenly vision with but a mediocre result."

These lines are published in "At Sunset."

On the 11th the cap and bells are assumed once more.

"... To reception of the College Club, where I was to preside over the literary exercises and to introduce the readers. I was rather at a loss how to do this, but suddenly I thought of Mother Goose's 'When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing.' So when Edward Everett Hale came forward with me and introduced me as 'the youngest person in the hall,' I said, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, I shall prove the truth of what our reverend friend has just said, by citing a quotation from Mother Goose ['When the pie was opened,' etc.], and the first bird that I shall introduce will be Rev. E. E. Hale.' Beginning thus, I introduced T. W. Higginson as the great American Eagle; Judge [Robert] Grant as a mocking-bird; C. F. Adams as the trained German canary who sings all the songs of Yawcob Strauss; C. G. Ames said, 'You mustn't call me an owl.' I brought him forward and said, 'My dear minister says that I must not call him an owl, and I will not; only the owl is the bird of wisdom and he is very wise.' I introduced Mrs. Moulton as a nightingale. For Trowbridge I could think of nothing and said, 'This bird will speak for himself.' Introduced N. H. Dole as 'a bird rarely seen, the phœnix.' At the close E. E. H. said, 'You have an admirable power of introducing.' This little device pleased me foolishly."

"February 4. Wrote a careful letter to W. F. Savage. He had written, asking an explanation of some old manuscript copy of my 'Battle Hymn' and of the theft perpetrated of three of its verses in 'Pen Pictures of the War,' only lately brought to my notice. He evidently thought these matters implied doubt at least of my having composed the 'Hymn.' To this suspicion I did not allude, but showed him how the verses stolen had been altered, probably to avoid detection...."

"March 3. Count di Campello's lecture, on the religious life in Italy, was most interesting. His uncle's movement in founding a National Italian Catholic Church seemed to me to present the first solution I have met with, of the absolute opposition between Catholic and Protestant. A Catholicism without spiritual tyranny, without ignorant superstition, would bridge over the interval between the two opposites and bring about the unification of the world-church...."

"March 13.... Passed the whole morning at State House, with remonstrants against petition forbidding Sunday evening concerts. T. W. H. spoke remarkably well...."

"March 30.... Had a special good moment this morning before rising. Felt that God had granted me a good deal of heaven, while yet on earth. So the veil lifts sometimes, not for long."

April found her in Minneapolis and St. Paul, lecturing and being "delightfully entertained."

"May 8. Minneapolis. Spoke at the University, which I found delightfully situated and richly endowed. Was received with great distinction. Spoke, I think, on the fact that it takes the whole of life to learn the lessons of life. Dwelt a little on the fact that fools are not necessarily underwitted. Nay, may be people of genius, the trouble being that they do not learn from experience...."

On leaving she exclaims:—

"Farewell, dear St. Paul. I shall never forget you, nor this delightful visit, which has renewed (almost) the dreams of youth. In the car a kind old grandmother, with two fine little boy grands....

"The dear old grandmother and her boys got out at the Soo. Other ladies in the Pullman were very kind to me, especially a lady from St. Paul, with her son, who I thought might be a young husband. She laughed much at this when I mentioned it to her. Had an argument with her, regarding hypnotism, I insisting that it is demoralizing when used by a strong will to subdue a weak one."

"May 25. [Boston.] Went in the afternoon to Unitarian meeting at Tremont Temple. S. A. Eliot made me come up on the platform. He asked if I would give a word of benediction. I did so, thanking God earnestly in my heart for granting me this sweet office, which seemed to lift my soul above much which has disturbed it of late. Why is He so good to me? Surely not to destroy me at last."

"June 3.... Before church had a thought of some sweet spirit asking to go to hell to preach to the people there. Thought that if he truly fulfilled his office, he would not leave even that forlorn pastorate...."

"June 10.... Could not find the key to my money bag, which distressed me much. Promised St. Anthony of Padua that if he would help me, I would take pains to find out who he was. Found the key immediately...."

"June 18.... The little lump in my right breast hurts me a little to-day. Have written Wesselhoeft about it. 4.50 P.M. He has seen it and says that it is probably cancerous; forbids me to think of an operation; thinks he can stop it with medicine. When he told me that it was in all probability a cancer, I felt at first much unsettled in mind. I feared that the thought of it would occupy my mind and injure my health by inducing sleeplessness and nervous excitement. Indeed, I had some sad and rather vacant hours, but dinner and Julia's[131] company put my dark thought to flight and I lay down to sleep as tranquilly as usual."

[Whatever this trouble was, it evidently brought much suffering, but finally disappeared. We learn of it for the first time in this record; she never spoke of it to any of her family.]

"Oak Glen. June 21. Here I am seated once more at my old table, beginning another villeggiatura, which may easily be my last. Have read a little Greek and a long article in the 'New World.' I pray the dear Heavenly Father to help me pass a profitable season here, improving it as if it were my last, whether it turns out to be so or not."

[She was not in her usual spirits this summer. She felt the heat and the burden of years. The Journal is mostly in a minor key.]

"July 16. Took up a poem at which I have been working for some days, on the victims in Pekin; a strange theme, but one on which I feel I have a word to say. Wrote it all over...."

"July 19. Was much worn out with the heat. In afternoon my head gave out and would not serve me for anything but to sit still and observe the flight of birds and the freaks of yellow butterflies...."

"July 26. Have prayed to-day that I may not find life dull. This prolongation of my days on earth is so precious that I ought not to cease for one moment to thank God for it. I enjoy my reading as much as ever, but I do feel very much the narrowing of my personal relations by death. How rich was I in sisters, brothers, elders! It seems to me now as if I had not at all appreciated these treasures of affection...."

"July 31. Have writ notes of condolence to Mrs. Barthold Schlesinger and to M. E. Powel. I remember the coming of Mrs. Powel's family to Newport sixty-five years ago. The elders used to entertain in the simple ways of those days, and my brother Henry and I used to sing one duet from the 'Matrimonio Segreto,' at some of their evening parties. In the afternoon came the ladies of the Papéterie; had our tea in the green parlor, which was pretty and pleasant...."

To Laura

Oak Glen, August 3, 1900.

... I grieve for the death of King Umberto, as any one must who has followed the fortunes of Italy and knows the indebtedness of the country to the House of Savoy. Thus, the horror of this anarchy, thriving among Italians in our own country. I am so thankful that the better class among them have come out so strongly against it! I was present when King Umberto took the oaths of office, after the death of his father. He was a faithful man, not quite up to the times, perhaps, but his reign was beset with problems and difficulties. I am sure that the Queen greatly respected and honored him, although I believe that she was first betrothed to his brother Amadeo, whom, it is said, she loved. Alas, for the tyranny of dynastic necessity. Their only child was very delicate, and has no child, or had not, when I was in Rome. As to the Chinese horror, it is unspeakably dreadful. Even if the ministers are safe, hundreds of foreigners and thousands of native Christians have been cruelly massacred. I cannot help hoping that punishment will be swift and severe....

A letter from H. M. H. yesterday, in great spirits. At a great public dinner recently, the president of the association cried: "Honneur à Howe!"

Affect.,

Mother.

"August 17.... In the evening I was seized with an attack of verse and at bedtime wrote a rough draft of a Te Deum for the rescue of the ministers in Pekin."

"August 20.... Got my poem smooth at some expense of force, perhaps. I like the poem. I think that it has been given me."

This Te Deum was printed in the "Christian Herald" in September, 1900.

"Sunday, September 2.... I had, before service began, a clear thought that self is death, and deliverance from its narrow limitations the truest emancipation. In my heart I gave thanks to God for all measure in which I have attained, or tried to attain, this liberation. It seems to me that the one moment of this which we could perfectly attain, would be an immortal joy."

A week later, she went to New York to attend a reception given to the Medal of Honor Legion at Brooklyn Academy. She writes:—

"Last evening's occasion was to me eminently worth the trouble I had taken in coming on. To meet these veterans, face to face, and to receive their hearty greeting, was a precious boon vouchsafed to me so late in life. Their reception to me was cordial in the extreme. The audience and chorus gave me the Chautauqua salute, and as I left the platform, the girl chorus sang the last verse of my 'Hymn' over again, in a subdued tone, as if for me alone. The point which I made, and wished to make, was that, 'our flag should only go forth on errands of justice, mercy, etc., and that once sent forth, it should not be recalled until the work whereunto it had been pledged was accomplished.' This with a view to Pekin...."

"September 13.... The Galveston horror[132] was much in my mind yesterday. I could not help asking why the dear Lord allowed such dreadful loss of life...."

"October 25. My last writing at this time in this dear place. The season, a very busy one, has also been a very blessed one. I cannot be thankful enough for so much calm delight—my children and grandchildren, my books and my work, although this last has caused me many anxieties. I cannot but feel as old John Forbes did when he left Naushon for the last time and went about in his blindness, touching his writing materials, etc., and saying to himself, 'Never again, perhaps.' If it should turn out so in my case, God's will be done. He knows best when we should depart and how long we should stay...."

"On the way home and afterwards, these lines of an old hymn ran in my mind:—

'Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not afraid.

I, I am thy God, and will still give thee aid.'

This comforted me much in the forlorn exchange of my lovely surroundings at Oak Glen for the imprisonment of a town house."

"November 4. 241 Beacon Street. The dear minister preached on 'All Saints and All Souls,' the double festival of last week. At Communion he said: 'Dear Sister Howe, remember that if you are moved to speak, you have freedom to do so.' I had not thought of speaking, but presently rose and spoke of the two consecrated days. I said: 'As I entered this church to-day, I thought of a beautiful cathedral in which one after another the saints whom I have known and loved, appeared on either side; first, the saints of my own happy childhood, then the excellent people whom I have known all my life long. The picture of one of them hangs on these walls.[133] His memory is fresh in all our hearts. Surely it is a divine glory which we have seen in the faces of these friends, and they seem to lead us up to that dearest and divinest one, whom we call Master'; and so on. I record this to preserve this vision of the cathedral of heart saints...."

"December 25. I was awake soon after five this morning, and a voice, felt, not heard, seemed to give me a friendly warning to set my house in order for my last departure from it. This seems to bring in view my age, already long past the scriptural limit, suggesting also that I have some symptoms of an ailment which does not trouble me much, but which would naturally tend to shorten my life. In my mind I promised that I would heed the warning given. I only prayed God to make the parting easy for me and my dear ones, of whom dear Maud would be the most to be pitied, as she has been most with me and has no child to draw her thoughts to the future. After this, I fell asleep.

"We had a merry time at breakfast, examining the Christmas gifts, which were numerous and gratifying...."

"December 31.... Here ends a year of mercies, of more than my usual health, of power to speak and to write. It has been a year of work. God be thanked for it."

CHAPTER XII

STEPPING WESTWARD

1901-1902; aet. 82-83

But here the device of the spiral can save us. We must make the round, but we may make it with an upward inclination. "Let there be light!" is sometimes said in accents so emphatic, that the universe remembers and cannot forget it. We carry our problems slowly forward. With all the ups and downs of every age, humanity constantly rises. Individuals may preserve all its early delusions, commit all its primitive crimes; but to the body of civilized mankind, the return to barbarism is impossible.

J. W. H.

"January 7. I have had a morning of visioning, lying in bed. 'Be still and know that I am God,' seemed to be my sentence. I thought of the Magdalen's box of spikenard, whose odor, when the box was broken, filled the house. The separate religious convictions of the sects seemed to me like so many boxes of ointment, exceedingly precious while shut up, but I thought also that the dear Lord would one day break these separate boxes, and that then their fragrance would fill the whole earth, which is His house.

"This is my first writing in this book. From this thought and the 'Be still,' I may try to make two sermons.

"In afternoon came William Wesselhoeft, Sr., and prescribed entire quiet and rest for some days to come. Oh! I do long to be at work."

"January 9. To-day for the first time since January 3, I have opened a Greek book. I read in my Æschylus ["Eumenides"] how Apollo orders the Furies to leave his shrine, to go where deeds of barbarity, tortures, and mutilations are practised."

At this time she heard of her son's receiving from the Czar the cross of the Order of St. Stanislas. She writes to him:—

"Goodness gracious me!

"Are you sure it isn't by mistake? Do you remember that you are my naughty little imp?... Well, well, it takes away my breath! Dearest Boy, my heart is lifted up with gratitude. If your father were only here, to share our great rejoicing! Joy! joy!..."

She had always taken a deep interest in Queen Victoria, whose age was within three days of her own. Many people fancied a resemblance between the two; indeed, when in England as a bride, she was told more than once: "You look like our young Queen!" It is remembered how one of her daughters, knocking at the door of a Maine farmhouse to inquire the way, was met by a smiling, "I know who you are! You are the daughter of the Queen of America!"

The Queen's death, coming as it did during her own illness, gave her a painful shock.

"January 23. The news of Queen Victoria's death quite overcame me for a moment this morning. Instead of settling to my work, I wrote a very tiny 'bust of feeling' about her, which I carried to the 'Woman's Journal' office, where I found a suffrage meeting in progress. I could only show myself and say that I was not well enough to remain...."

"Bust of feeling" was a favorite expression of hers. Old Bostonians will recall its origin. "A certain rich man," seeing a poor girl injured in a street accident, offered to pay her doctor's bill. This being presented in due time, he disclaimed all responsibility in the affair; and when reminded of his offer, exclaimed, "Oh, that was a bust of feeling!"

On January 31, she was "in distress of mind all day lest Maud should absolutely refuse to let me give my lecture at Phillips Church this evening." Later she writes: "Maud was very kind and did nothing to hinder my going to South Boston." She went and enjoyed the evening, but was not so well after it.

"February 10. A Sunday at home; unable to venture out. Wesselhoeft, Jr., called, left medicine, and forbade my going out before the cough has ceased. Have read in Cheyne's 'Jewish Religious Life after the Exile,' finding the places of reference in the Bible. Afterwards read in 'L'Aiglon,' which is very interesting but not praiseworthy, as it endeavors to recall the false glory of Napoleon."

"February 18. Have been out, first time since February 3, when I went to church and was physically the worse for it.... Last night had a time of lying awake with a sort of calm comfort. Woke in the morning full of invalid melancholy, intending to keep my bed. Felt much better when in motion. Must make a vigorous effort now to get entirely well."