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J. W. Hurlburt (search for this): chapter 31
n 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 broGeneral 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 letteHurlburt 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 attend several meetings, and to write several papers.
G. Schirmer (search for this): chapter 31
in this State would not double the illiterate vote — proposed a census of comparative illiteracy of the sexes in Massachusetts at least. We had long besought her to have her musical compositions written down, and now this was done in part. Once or twice a week Mr. John M. Loud came to the house and took down her melodies, she singing and playing them to him. She always enjoyed the hour with the young composer. A number of the melodies thus preserved were published in a Song Album by G. Schirmer some months later. April 8. Great trouble of mind about attending the Peace Convention in New York, which I have promised to do. Laura dead against it, reinforced by Wesselhoeft, Sr., who pronounces it dangerous for me. I at last wrote to ask my dear minister about it. April 9.... A violent snowstorm keeps me at home. Minister and wife write, Don't go to Peace Convention. I asked God in my prayer this morning to make going possible or impossible for me. I took C. G. A.'s letter as
John M. Loud (search for this): chapter 31
od time to say something about Aldrich.... Found a man who has studied the Berber races in Africa. Had a good talk with him. Came home dreadfully tired. To bed by 9.30. At the College Club I said that to give women the vote in this State would not double the illiterate vote — proposed a census of comparative illiteracy of the sexes in Massachusetts at least. We had long besought her to have her musical compositions written down, and now this was done in part. Once or twice a week Mr. John M. Loud came to the house and took down her melodies, she singing and playing them to him. She always enjoyed the hour with the young composer. A number of the melodies thus preserved were published in a Song Album by G. Schirmer some months later. April 8. Great trouble of mind about attending the Peace Convention in New York, which I have promised to do. Laura dead against it, reinforced by Wesselhoeft, Sr., who pronounces it dangerous for me. I at last wrote to ask my dear minister about
Anna Garlin Spencer (search for this): chapter 31
which I have promised to do. Laura dead against it, reinforced by Wesselhoeft, Sr., who pronounces it dangerous for me. I at last wrote to ask my dear minister about it. April 9.... A violent snowstorm keeps me at home. Minister and wife write, Don't go to Peace Convention. 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:-
Giulia Grisi (search for this): chapter 31
ne could only think of The chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof. Another good gift was a Victor machine. When the after-dinner reading was over, she would say, Now bring my opera-box! The white armchair was wheeled into the passage between the two parlors. Here she sat in state, while the great singers poured out their treasures before her, while violinist and pianist gave her their best. She listened with keen and critical enjoyment, recalling how Malibran gave this note, how Grisi and Mario sang that duet. Then she would go 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 mos
Frank B. Sanborn (search for this): chapter 31
1. Having hammered at some verses for General Lee, 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 his violin, Schelling 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
Battle Hymn (search for this): chapter 31
ongregation, in which a number of white outsiders were mingled in with the people of the church.... Mrs. Jeter sang my Battle Hymn, the congregation joining in the Glory Hallelujah. I then read my screed, which was heard with profound attention, on 17. The Old South Chapter of D. A.R.'s, met in the real Old South Church; there was much good speaking. I recited my Battle Hymn and boasted my descent from General Marion, the Swamp Fox, saying also, When, eluding the vigilance of children and grd 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. A calendar, got e a flash, she says, but had to be much thought over and corrected. And again, It was given to me something as was my Battle Hymn. . . . October 25. Wrote to a very bumptious child, thirteen years old, who proffers me her friendship and correspo
W. A. Mozart (search for this): chapter 31
st. She listened with keen and critical enjoyment, recalling how Malibran gave this note, how Grisi and Mario sang that duet. Then she would go 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<
Don Giovanni (search for this): chapter 31
pianist gave her their best. She listened with keen and critical enjoyment, recalling how Malibran gave this note, how Grisi and Mario sang that duet. Then she would go 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 <
Margaret Chanler (search for this): chapter 31
ed 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 the two musicians were inspired to play, as the people in the story were to dance. Kneisel flew home for his violin, Schelling 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 Whi
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