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A public-domain text about Boston, accessioned whole so the archive can quote it.","text_extract":"Special ^0ofe Colledton \n\n\n''The search for truth even unto its innermost parts' \n\nIn Honor of \n\nMrs. Rose Gorfinkle \n\nNew York City \n\nThe Gift of \nExecutive Board of Manliattan Chapter \n\n\nThe National Women's Committee \nof Brandeis University \n\n\nJOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nA BIOGRAPHY \n\n\nvLl. of(X4^UU---^^ ^'^('^^■^^y>i^' as to a master, aiid that \nhe was the only person who made Shakspere seem \npossible to him. Daniel Webster, in whose office he \nstudied, said, when he was consulted where he should \nsettle, that it made no difference where he settled. If \nhe opened an office in the m^idst of the backwoods in \nMai7te, the clieiits would throng after him. Dr. \nChanning said of him, when he died, that all New \nEngla7id mourned his loss ; a^id Edward Everett \ndelivered a eulogy upon him at a Phi Beta Kappa \n\n\nPREFACE \n\n\nxiu \n\n\ndinner, which, I hope, will be brought to light if the \nlong-delayed duty of writing a memoir of Everett \nshall ever be performed and his papers shall be pub- \nlished. When it is remembered that Charles Emer- \nson died at about twenty- seven yeaj^s, when he had \nscarcely begun the practice ofhisprofession,you will \nperhaps be inclined to agree that my estimate of him \nis not a fond exaggeration^ \n\nThe account which Curtis gave of the drowniiig \nof a young girl in Concord may be supplemented by \nthe statement that her name was Martha Hunt, and \nnot Mary, She belonged to the family of a well- \nto-do farmer in Concord, a7id was a beautiful girl, \nof sweet dispositio7i. Had it 7iot been for inherited \ninsanity, she would have had no difficulty in finding \na refined society suited to her capacity, \n\nElizabeth Raiidall was married at the house of \nMrs. Cheney, and not at that of Samuel Hoar. It \nshould also be said that Samuel Hoar was known \ni7t Concord as \" Squire',' and not as Judge. In his \nday he was one of the most famous lawyers in the \ncountry. Chief Justice Shaw said that he was the \nmost powerful Jury lawyer in Massachusetts. Starr \nKing said of him that \" he lived all the beatitudes \ndailyT After his death tribute was paid to his \nmemory by John A. Andrew, Emory Washburn, \nCharles Sumner, John G. Palfrey, Robert C, Win- \nthrop, and James Walker, President Walker said \nof his relations to Harvard College that he was \n\" venerable alike for his age and his virtues, a de- \nvoted friend to the college, whom he has been able to \n\n\nxiv PREFACE \n\nserve in a thousand ways by the wisdom of his coun- \nsels and the weight of his character'' He also said \nof him^ \" Other men served the college : Samuel \nHoar saved itT \n\nIn his letter about Father Hecker^ Curtis spoke \nof a series of papers in the Dial, called \" Ernest^ the \nSeeker^' as writte^i by William Henry Channing, \nThey were in reality written by William. Ellery \nChanning, the poet, one of Thoreaus most intimate \nfriends and his first biographer. One who k7tew \nhim well hi his days of poetic activity has written of \nhim, \"/ shall be m.uch mistaken if some of his poems \ndo not survive nearly everything that his ge7ieratio7i \nin this country producedr \n\nOne or two other errors m,ay be corrected, Curtis \nmentions the Nethake family in New York, not \nthe Vathek. The flower he found on his visit to \nWachusett was the pote7itilla. All these errors \nhave been corrected in the second edition. Some of \nthem were made by Curtis himself, and others came \nfrom misinformation. I have to tha7ik those per- \nsons who have ki7idly pointed them out to me. \n\nThe chapter 07i the Saturday Club was published \nin the New E7igland Magazine for June, i8g8, a7id \nis repri7itcd through the kind7iess of the publisher. \nIt has bee7i revised, however, especially with refer- \nence to Horatio Woodma7i ; and the facts in regard \nto his life are 7iow give7i, correcti7tg false stateme7its \nthat have been made about him. \n\nG. w. c. \n\n\nCHAPTER I. \nANCESTRY, YOUTH, AND COLLEGE LIFE. \n\nThe Dwight family is a widely extended one in \nthe United States, and has included a large num- \nber of statesmen, judges, authors, college presidents \nand professors, and other men of prominence and \ninfluence. Most of those who bear the name are \ndescendants of Mr. John Dwight, one of the orig- \ninal settlers of Dedham, Mass. One branch of the \nfamily located in Shirley, Mass., about the middle of \nthe eighteenth century. Captain John Dwight, a \nsupposed son of John Dwight, of Medfield, who \nwas descended from Michael Dwight, of Dedham, \nwas born about the year 1705, became a sea cap- \ntain, and was shipwrecked in 1744. He left a \nwidow, and a son John, aged four, who was brought \nup in Boston. He moved to Shirley, where he \nspent his life as a farmer and a stone-cutter. He \nwas in the Revolutionary army, and he was made \npartly deaf for many years from the effects of a \nwound received at the battle of White Plains. He \ndied Oct. 6, 18 16, as the result of accidental poi- \nsoning. \n\nThe children of John Dwight, of Shirley, were \nSusanna, John, Sally, Betsey, Francis, Priscilla, \nPamilla, Sullivan. The eldest son, John, was born \nDec. 22, 1776. He graduated at Harvard College \nin 1800, in a class which included Charles Lowell, \nD.D., Washington Allston, and Judge Lemuel \nShaw. He studied for the ministry, but, before \n\n\n2 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nentering upon the work of his profession, found \nhimself rejecting the severe Calvinism in which he \nhad been educated. Then he studied medicine \nwith the celebrated physician, Dr. John Jeffries, \nand settled in Boston. He was only moderately \nsuccessful as a medical practitioner, his mind being \nlargely occupied with mechanical invention. In \nreligion he was a free-thinker, and of a very radical \nkind for his day. Sincere and truth-loving, he re- \nfused to accept what was unworthy of God and \nrevolting to human affection. Speaking at his fu- \nneral, Theodore Parker remarked : \" Our friend is \nsaid to have held opinions which are not popular. \nI know not of those opinions ; but this I do know, \n— that, whatever they were, he was true to them. \nAnd greater praise could be given to no man.\" \n\nDr. John Dwight married Mary Corey, of West \nRoxbury, in 1812. She was a woman of \" a very \nsimple, modest, childlike nature, fresh in her feel- \nings and instincts, and of a lovely disposition.\" \nShe was a handsome woman, sweet, amiable, and \nsensible, of exquisite taste, and of a superior char- \nacter. She was fond of reading, had good literary \njudgment, and a strong liking for poetry. Her \nnature was aesthetic and artistic in its preferences. \nShe had a remarkable appreciation of beauty, and \nfine taste as to its character and quality. \n\nTo Dr. John Dwight and his wife Mary were \nborn: John Sullivan, May 13, 181 3; Marianne, \nApril 4, 1816; Frances Ellen, Dec. 13, 181 9; and \nBenjamin Franklin, Sept. 5, 1824. It was natural \n\n\nANCESTRY, YOUTH, AND COLLEGE LIFE 3 \n\nthat the eldest son should take the name of his \nfather, since it had for generations been a common \nDwieht name. The second name was that of his \nfather's youngest brother, who was for many years \na successful marble-cutter in Thomaston, Me., and \na militia ofHcer of some note. \n\nJohn Sullivan Dwight was born in Court Street, \nBoston, in a house which is now standing. He \nfirst went to the infant school of \" Marm English,\" \nwho was patronized by many of the ministers and \nthe best families. He next went to the grammar \nschool in Derne Street, where he won a Franklin \nprize. He was a quiet, studious boy, fond of his \nbooks. \n\nYoung Dwight attended the Latin School, then \ntaught by Benjamin Gould, where he took prizes \nwhenever there were any, and secured a Franklin \nmedal. One of his sisters remembers his holding \na roll of paper in his hand, containing notes he had \ncollected in preparation for the writing of a prize \nessay. His mother asked him if he would not \nhave it tied with a ribbon, and he said he was will- \ning to have it tied with a piece of twine if he could \nsecure the prize. In the Latin School, Dwight \nmade rapid progress, and took high standing in his \n\nclass. \n\nOne of his sisters remembers that John first \n\nshowed a taste for music when about fifteen, when \n\n-he heard a brass band playing the \"Hunter's \n\nChorus\"; and he followed it about. From that \n\ntime music was an absorbing interest with him. \n\n\n4 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nHe was very fond of attending the \" New England \nMuseum,\" kept by Thomas Grainger, who was \nfriendly with John's father, and gave the family \nfree access to his place of entertainment. It was \nnot the animals in which the youth took an inter- \nest, but the music. The boy was passionately fond \nof street music, and found delight in a street organ, \neven in later years. \n\nJohn devoted much time to the piano and flute. \nFrom his mother he gained an exquisite love of \nthe beautiful and a fine aesthetic sensibility. His \nfather's mechanical skill he did not inherit in the \nleast degree, but from his mother he acquired those \nintellectual qualities which determined all his after \n\nlife. \n\nIn the summer of 1829 young Dwight entered \nHarvard College, \" carrying thither,\" according to \nhis own statement, \" perhaps more Latin and Greek \n(technically, as to grammar, at least) than I [he] \nbrought away.\" Having entered college better \nprepared than most of his classmates, he did not \nexert himself as he had done in the Latin School, \nbut kept a respectable standing in his class. He \nwas interested in music far more than in any pre- \nscribed college study, and it is because of that in- \nterest he is chiefly remembered by his companions. \nMusic was then no part of the college course; but \nDwight early joined the Pierian Sodality, a club \nof students for musical study and practice. It \nfurnished the music for the exhibitions, which \nwas thought to be very good. It was then the \n\n\nANCESTRY, YOUTH, AND COLLEGE LIFE 5 \n\nrule of the college that prescribed study hours \nshould be kept by the students. From 12 m. to \n2 P.M. was a time of intermission ; and the moment \nthe bell rang the noon hour Dwight caught up his \nflute, on which he played until the bell rang again \nfor study, taking barely time to eat his dinner in \nthe interval. One of his classmates has said that \nhis heart seemed to be in music more than any- \nthing else. \n\nOf this period Colonel T. W. Higginson fur- \nnishes these reminiscences: \"I have always known \nJohn Dwight, ever since he and two other young \nmen used to come to my mother's house in Cam- \nbridge, when I was about eleven, and play flute \ntrios with my sister's piano accompaniment, she \nbeing a fine pianist. One was the late C. P. \nCranch ; and the third was William Negle Haber- \nsham, of Georgia. The latter had a silver flute ; \nand I remember John Dwight's saying, ' It has a \nsilver tone,' in the same dreamy and ecstatic way \nin which he always spoke of everything musical. \nHe and Cranch were then divinity students, and \nHabersham an undergraduate. The latter gradu- \nated in 1836, so this must have been about 1835. \nI don't remember what music they played (my \nsister played Beethoven, w4io was then a novelty); \nbut I remember that after being sent up to bed I \nwas allowed to leave my door open, and went to \nsleep by music. Afterwards I read with pleasure \nof the boy in ' Charles Auchester ' who does the \n\n\nsame.\" \n\n\n6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nIn an account of the musical society called the \nPierian Sodality, formed in 1808, and still flourish- \ning, which Dwight wrote for the \" Harvard Book,\" \nhe gives some interesting reminiscences of his \ncollege days. \" When the Sodality began to play \nat college exhibitions,\" he wrote, \" or when the \nflutes came in, and, with those soft, persuasive in- \nstruments, of course the serenading, we are not \ninformed. Both practices were fully in vogue \nwhen we first heard the Pierians, in 1827-28, and \nwere kept up, with occasional interruptions, for \nmany a year afterwards. Shall we forget the scene \nof the Exhibition Day, when the Latin School boy, \non the eve of entering college, eager to catch a \nglimpse beforehand of the promised land, went out \nto University Hall, and for the first time heard and \nsaw, up there in the side (north) gallery, the little \ngroup of Pierians, with their ribbons and their \nmedals and their shining instruments, among them \nthe protruding, long, and lengthening monster, the \ntrombone, wielded with an air of gravity and \ndignity by one who now ranks among our most \ndistinguished scholars, orators, and statesmen .f^ \nHad any strains of band or orchestra ever \nsounded so sweet to the expectant Freshman's \nears as those.'* And was not he, too, captivated \nand converted to the gospel of the college flute, \nas the transcendent and most eloquent of instru- \nments? Nevertheless within a year or two he \nchose the reedy clarionet, wherewith to lead a \nlittle preparatory club, — the purgatory which half- \n\n\nANCESTRY, YOUTH, AND COLLEGE LIFE 7 \n\nfledged musicians of his own ilk had to pass \nthrough before they could be candidates for the \nPierian paradise. This was called the Arionic \nSociety; and, if its utmost skill was discord, the \nstruggle of its members for promotion into the \nhigher order was persistent. We think it was \nfounded some years later than the Sodality, for \nwhich it was in some sense the noisy nursery. How \nlong it lasted, we know not. The Sodality in our \nday, under the presidency of accomplished flutists \n(Isaac Appleton Jewett, Boott, and Graham), was \ncomparatively rich in instruments. Besides the \nflutes (first, second, third, and several of each), we \nhad the clarionet, a pair of French horns, violon- \ncello, and part of the time a nondescript bass horn.\" \nDwight's love of poetry and the best literature \nwas only less than his love of music. He read \nmuch in the best authors, and his literary exercises \nshowed his strong literary taste. In his Junior year \nhe read an original poem before the Hasty Pud- \nding Club, in the middle of the Senior year he \nlectured on music before the Northborough Ly- \nceum, and a few weeks before graduation he gave \na paper on poetry before the Harvard Union. On \ngraduation, July 17, 1832, Dwight furnished the \nclass poem, which contained thirty nine-line stanzas. \nThese facts hint at his excellent standing in a class \nwhich contained George Ticknor Curtis, Henry \nW. Bellows, Charles T. Brooks, Estes Howe, \nSamuel Osgood, and John Holmes, brother of \nthe poet. \n\n\n8 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nA part of his Senior year was spent by Dwight \nin teaching at Northborough. His letters do not \nindicate that he fully enjoyed the occupation or \nthat the pupils he had under him were such as to \nenlist his intellectual sympathies. He introduced \nmusic into his school, and he found such comfort \nas he could in the social life of the place. In Sep- \ntember, 1832, he entered the Divinity School of \nHarvard College. After taking up the studies of \nthe next year, he left in October, and went to Mead- \nville, Penn., to serve as a tutor in the family of \nMr. H. J. Huidekoper. He greatly enjoyed his \nstay in that place, the family in which he was \nplaced, the young people whose education he \nguided, and his own opportunities for reading and \nstudy. He was the leading spirit in organizing \na lyceum in Meadville, before which he gave the \nfirst lecture, taking for his subject \" Education.\" In \nAugust, 1834, he returned to the Divinity School; \nand he completed the course of study in August, \n1836. On graduation he gave a dissertation on \n\" The Proper Character of Poetry and Music for \nPublic Worship,\" which was published in the \nChristiari Examiner for November, 1836. This \npaper was a plea for the recognition of music \non its own merits and as a means of genuine \nculture. \n\nIn the Divinity School, as in the college, Dwight's \none great interest was music. Near his own were \nthe rooms of his lifelong friends, Theodore Parker \nand Christopher P. Cranch. Parker had no love \n\n\nANCESTRY, YOUTH, AND COLLEGE LIFE 9 \n\nof music and no capacity for its production, but \nCranch was only less devoted to it than Dwight. \nWhen the two music-lovers were one evening play- \ning together, they heard a great din in the hall. \nOn Dwight's opening the door, Parker was discov- \nered sawing wood. When asked why he was so \nengaged in that place, he replied, \" You disturb \nme with your music when I wish to study, and I \nwill have my fun in return.\" He kept on with his \nsawing until the music was silenced. \n\nOn Exhibition Day in July, 1837, a number of \ngraduates, who had been members of the Pierian \nSodality, met with the students who were then \nmembers ; and the conversation turned on the work \nof the little society. It was suggested that a soci- \nety be formed of graduates for the purpose of meet- \ning regularly at Commencement each year. A \ncommittee was at once appointed to prepare a plan \nfor such society, of which Dwight was made a mem- \nber. He wrote to Cranch : \" The plan proposed \nhas been very warmly met. Many gentlemen of \nhigh character have answered that they will come, \nand do all that they can to promote the objects \ncontemplated. Some engage to contribute liberally \ntowards a fund.\" On Commencement Day, August \n30, a meeting was held in response to a circular \nsent out to all the former members of the Sodality, \ninviting them to attend. The report of the com- \nmittee was prepared by Dwight, by whom it was \nread. He proposed two objects for the society con- \ntemplated, the first that of holding an annual meet- \n\n\n10 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ning on Commencement Day of those interested In \nmusic, and the second that of securing the advance- \nment of the cause of music, particularly in the uni- \nversity. \n\nThe society took the name of the General As- \nsociation of the Members of the Pierian Sodality. \nHenry Ware, D.D., was elected the president, and \nD wight the vice-president. In 1840 the name was \nchanged to the Harvard Musical Association. In \n1845 the society was incorporated, and in 1848 it \nbegan to hold its meetings in Boston. From the \nbeginning the society took the position that \" the \nscience and art of music is worthy of a place in a \nsystem of liberal education, and deserving of culti- \nvation by educated men.\" It took for its definite \nobject to secure \" the Introduction of music as a \nregular branch of instruction, and the cultivation of \nmusical taste and science in Harvard University.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER II. \nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING. \n\nIn July, 1836, John S. Dwight entered upon his \nwork as a preacher; but three years and a half \npassed before he had a pulpit of his own. He was \nidle but few Sundays, but the parishes evidently \nwere not wholly pleased with his preaching. He \nsaw his own limitations with reference to his chosen \nprofession. In a letter written in Boston, Febru- \nary, 1837, he said to Theodore Parker, \" I am al- \nmost afraid that I cannot succeed as a preacher.\" \n\n\" You ask me to point out your faults,\" wrote \nParker from Salem, March 14. \"I can in no wise \nrefuse, since you did me the same favor you ask. I \nfear to touch the subject, but will attempt it. Let \nme begin by stating some of your merits by way of \noffset to what is to follow. You have a deep love \nof the beautiful, strong likings and keen dislikings, \na quick discernment, a deep love of freedom. I love \nthe spontaneity of reason displayed in your mind \nand the beautiful active power of your imagination. \nBut I must speak of ' faults ' under each of these \nheads. You do not always see the beautiful clearly. \nThe beautiful is not sharply defined, so you love \nvagueness, mistaking the indefinite for the Infinite, \nand, like Ixion of old, embracing a cloud instead of \na goddess. You surround yourself with the per- \nfumed clouds of music. You mingle the same per- \nfume and melody in your sermons, but you carry \nall the vagueness of musical clouds where clearness \n\n\n12 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nand precision are virtues. Thus you will be feeble \nin expression where your feeling is strong. You \nplace the beauty of action in unconsciousness. This \nis wrong, — profoundly wrong. Babes are uncon- \nscious. Instructed men act with will, therefore are \nthey moral, god-like. You confound tranquillity and \nunconsciousness ; but Tranquillity is the daughter \nof Volition and Love, their favorite though young- \nest child. You are deficient in will. This is the \nmost important statement I have to make. \n\n\" Your strong likings sometimes lead you where \nyou would not go. Your dislikes make you shrink \nfrom others who, you have a presentiment, are not \ncongenial souls. Thus you are often misunder- \nstood, often neglected by such as are really con- \ngenial, born of the same parent. \n\n\" Your quick discernment leads you away some- \ntimes. What you catch at the first or second \ngrasp, you hold ; but you are not a patient thinker. \nThis proceeds from want of will. You oftentimes \ngo down very deep into the hidden things of nat- \nure and see visions ; but you descry only half of a \ntruth, which often leads to a whole error. If you \nwould add reflection to your list of cardinal virtues \nof the mind, and apply it to the rich elements of \nthought which the spontaneous reason affords you, \nyou will be a great man. This want of will-con- \ntrolled thought has prevented your doing anything \nworthy of yourself. You have done fine things, \nbut they are nothing to what you can and ought \nto do. \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 13 \n\n\" Your love of freedom makes you despise law. \nNow a man is only free by keeping the law of his \nbeing, * the law of the spirit of life,' as Paul calls it. \nYou have not will enough to be free. Impulse as- \nsumes the place of will with you. Sometimes it \ncarries you where reason would perhaps reluct to \ngo. Now the will cannot be the impelling power, \nbut it should be a directing. Without this man is \nlike a straw in the waters. You have a beautiful \nsentiment; but you need a firm principle to give \nconsistency, vigor, and selbst-standigkeit. You \nhave read the little note upon Schubert at the end \nof the Life of Schiller : it is full of instruction. \n\n\" I admire your imagination : it is really creative, \nnot merely a sickly fancy ; but it makes you dream \nwhen you should do. Duty, not dreaming, is for \nmen. You must get a place in the real world be- \nfore you can walk into the ideal like a gentleman. \nNobody can scramble into heaven : even the giants \npiled Pelion upon Ossa before they attempted it. \nI have suspected that your ideals are incapable of \nrealization. So are all, you will say. True, but \nonly on account of the narrowness of Space and the \nlowness of Time ; while I suspect yours of an in- \ntrinsic defect, that they sometimes involve a contra- \ndiction, and so would commit suicide before they \nwere of age.\" \n\nIn writing to Dwight three months before the \nabove letter was written, Parker had asked his \nfriend to point out all the faults which he found \nmost prominent in his character, both intellectual \n\n\n14 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nand moral. To this Dwight replied a few days \nlater in these words : \" I may hint to you some- \nthing about your character, as I would to myself \nabout my own, rather in the way of cautious suspi- \ncion than passing any actual judgment. I fear \nthat I have not enough of the element of will in \nme. I cannot judge people. I can only regard \nwhat I see in them as the manifestations of a \npeculiar nature. I have strong likings, strong an- \ntipathies ; but I do not feel it necessary to praise \nor blame. Still, I should be unworthy of the con- \nfidence you have reposed in me if I did not speak \nto you openly. I shall try to merit the confidence \nyou have placed in my good will and candor, \nthough I would not have you place too much in \nmy judgment. \n\n\" I always thought you had faults ; but, as I try \nto touch them, they slip away. Therefore, let me \ncommence systematically ; and, first, whatever may \nbe your habitual principles, motives, tendencies, \npassions, you do not fail at all in the resolution to \nact them out. Whatever you wish, you will ; and, \nwhat you will, you effect. This I have admired in \nyou, perhaps because I am so passive. But yet \neven this virtue you carry to a degree which is dis- \nao^reeable to me. I don't like to see a man have \ntoo much will : it mars the beauty of nature. You \nseem, as the phrenologist said, ' goaded on.' Your \nlife seems a succession of convulsive efforts, and \nthe only wonder is to me that they don't exhaust \nyou. You continually recover and launch forth \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 15 \n\nagain. This circumstance makes me somewhat \nmistrust my own judgment about this trait. Still, \nit is painful for me to see a being whom I respect \nand love anything but calm. I like not impetuosity, \nexcept that of unconscious impulse. You distrust \nthose who are unlike yourself. You fancy them re- \nstraints upon you, and then your faith in your own \nenergies and ideas speaks out in a tone of almost \nbitter contempt for the world and those who do not \nthink and feel as you do. You feel that such senti- \nments as you cherish ought to triumph, but you \nfind the world courting men who pursue inferior \naims. Coupled with your high ideal is an impa- \ntient wish to see it immediately realized, — two \nthings which don't go well together ; for the one \nprompts you to love, the other, soured by necessary \ndisappointment, prompts to hate, at least contempt \n\" I think your love of learning is a passion, that \nit injures your mind by converting insensibly what \nis originally a pure thirst for truth into a greedy, \navaricious, jealous striving, not merely to know, but \nto get all there is known. Don't you often turn \naside from your own reflection from a fear of \nlosing what another has said or written on the sub- \nject ? Have you not too much of a mania for all \nprinted things, — as if books were the symbols of \nthat truth to which the student aspires .f* You \nwrite, you read, you talk, you think, in a hurry, \nfor fear of not getting all. Tell me if I conject- \nure wrongly, and pardon this weak but sincere at- \ntempt to answer your questions. Your friend and \nbrother.\" \n\n\ni6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nThese letters indicate the sensitive, refined, and \nunworldly cast of Dwight's character, and the aloof- \nness of his heart and mind from the commonplaces \nof the world. His letter to Parker reveals his own \ncharacter more fully than does Parker's to him, \nand shows clearly his want of an incisive and dom- \ninating will-power. A letter from Rev. H. W. Bel- \nlows to Dwight, written in the autumn of 1836, \nhints of the fears Dwight's intimate friends had \ndeep at heart as to his future. \" A good many of \nyour friends,\" his classmate writes, \" who admire \nyour genius, fear, I think, whether it is destined to \nhave a full manifestation. Their fears and mine \nare founded upon a certain contempt you have for \nthe details of life, for the common modes of useful- \nness, for the use of means. They fear for your sta- \nbility. They fear for your nonconformity to circum- \nstances. Have they any grounds ? Do you feel \nany radical weakness of purpose, any consciousness \nthat you are destined to dream bright dreams, \nand wake to weep over their vanity ? You may \nhave the character of being dreamy, irresolute, and \nimpracticable, with a consciousness all the while of \na lofty destiny of usefulness in the world. Forgive \nme for touching this matter, but I express a feel- \ning that has sometimes cast a doubt upon my mind \nas to your prospects of happiness. I have feared \nthat your fortunes might be those of genius too \noften without sympathy, too often disastrous.\" \n\nDwight did not always feel in the discouraged \nmood in which he wrote to Parker, and he had \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 17 \n\nmore than one occasion for feeling that his work in \nthe pulpit was acceptable. In 1837 Rev. S. D. Rob- \nbins, of Lynn, wrote to him, \" Your services were \nnot only acceptable, but more than profitable; and \nI am grateful to you for their benefit.\" In 1839 \nRev. E. Q. Sewall, of Scituate, wrote him : \" I can- \nnot refuse myself the satisfaction of letting you \nknow how exceedingly and universally pleased my \nsociety were with your services. It was delightful \nto me to see the quantity of intellectual and moral \nactivity which seemed the product directly of your \nword and theme.\" \n\nIn June, 1837, Dwight received a request from \nRalph Waldo Emerson that he supply the pulpit \nof the church in East Lexington. To this congre- \ngation, newly formed, Emerson had been preach- \ning for about two years. The people were of the \nanti-slavery and radical type, to a considerable ex- \ntent ; and Emerson's preaching had been very satis- \nfactory. He had grown to strongly dislike the \npulpit as a place for himself, however; and he \nquietly omitted on one Sunday the public prayer, \nfinding it not in consonance with his mood. He \nwas anxious to find some one to take his place, and \nto relieve him of the drive every Sunday from Con- \ncord. Dwight spent a few Sundays with this little \ncongregation; and in February, 1838, he received \nthis letter from Emerson : — \n\n\" I was at East Lexington yesterday, and ex- \nplained my wish to relinquish the charge of the \npulpit to Mr. Morrill ; and he talked with the com- \n\n\ni8 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nmittee. They are very glad to know that you are \ndisposed to come, — the committee for themselves, \n— and they think it agreeable to all. But they are \nso systematically prudent that they think it will for \nthe present be better if I engaged to supply the \ndesk, and then send you, than if they agree with \nyou at first hand. \n\n\" So I am to come once or twice in person be- \ntween now and the first of May, when my engage- \nment expires ; and then, if agreeable to you, I am \nto renew the engagement, but with the understand- \ning that you are to take the entire charge, only \ncalling me in if any particular contingency should \nmake it desirable. I am agreeably astonished at \narriving at the dignity of patronage, and you may \nbe sure I shall be sufficiently ostentatious of it. \nMeantime I shall depend on you to go there next \nSunday, and thereafter. When I see you, I will fix \nsome day when I should go before May.\" \n\nFor something more than a year Dwight con- \ntinued to supply the East Lexington pulpit, being \nabsent, however, more than half of the time. His \npreaching did not wholly satisfy the congregation, \nand he was not invited to settle. He is still re- \nmembered in the parish with much regard for his \nenthusiastic love of nature and his passionate de- \nvotion to music. \" He was all music,\" say those \nwho knew him, — full of interesting talk about the \nart, and constantly improvising on the piano, when \none was within reach. He was shy, bashful, diffi- \ndent in the extreme, sensitive to surroundings and \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 19 \n\nespecially as to persons, and caring little for those \nnot of his own taste and quality. He was also \ngreatly interested in German ; was then giving \nmuch time to its study, and to translation of the \nGerman poets. In his visits to the parish, German \nbooks and music, and whatever books he happened \nto be interested in at the time, went with him, and \nwere freely talked of to those who would listen to \nhim. His sermons were often written on Saturday \nnight and Sunday morning, a considerable part of \nthe night being devoted to them. This practice he \nkept up so long as he occupied a pulpit. \n\nDwight was dependent upon those who heard \nhim for whatever success he attained in the pulpit. \nIf people did not hear him gladly, he felt at once \nthe depression of the situation ; but, where he was \ncordially welcomed, his mood rose to the highest \nlevel. In May, 1839, he spent three Sundays in \nBangor, Me., in the pulpit of Rev. F. H. Hedge. \nOn the second Sunday he wrote to one of his sis- \nters : \" I enjoy myself exceedingly, and I feel fifty \nper cent, better every way than when I left Boston. \nI receive the most cordial and constant attentions \nfrom the people ; in fact, never was made nearly so \nmuch of anywhere. So many call upon me, or in- \nvite me to ride, to tea, and what not, that I get \nlittle time to work or to brood over my thought; \nand that is just what I want. There is much more \nrefined society than I anticipated in Bangor. Mr. \nHedge's society includes the most of this better \npart. What makes me feel aoubly at home here \n\n\n20 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nis the fact that Mr. Emerson was here some years \nago, and Interested the people very much. I have \nnever got so cordial a hearing for my free utter- \nances as here. They are an active, public-spirited \npeople, and are not afraid.\" \n\nDuring these years of waiting Dwight was not \nidle with his pen. In 1838 he wrote reviews of \nTennyson's \"Poems\" and Gardner's \"Music of \nNature \" for the Christimi Examiner. During \n1839 he wrote on Schiller's \" William Tell \" and \nDickens's \" Oliver Twist,\" and in 1840 he furnished \nto the same review an article on \" Spenser's \nPoems.\" It was good work he put into these \ncriticisms, somewhat youthful and enthusiastic, but \nsound and wholesome. His review of Tennyson \nwas the earliest published in this country, and was \nmarked by his independent and appreciative spirit. \n\nHis chief work at this time, however, was the \ntranslation of the minor poems of Goethe and \nSchiller for the series of volumes edited by his \nfriend George Ripley, under the general title of \n\" Specimens of Foreign Standard Literature.\" The \nsecond volume in this series appeared in the latter \npart of 1838, with the title \"Select Minor Poems, \ntranslated from the German of Goethe and Schiller, \nwith Notes.\" Dwight translated most of the poems \nfrom Goethe, and somewhat less than half of those \nfrom Schiller ; and he edited the volume, furnish- \ning the eighty pages of notes. The plan of the \nvolume is given in a letter which Dwight sent to \nRev. James Freeman Clarke, then at Louisville, Ky., \nasking for his aid in its preparation : — \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 21 \n\n\" Knowing you to be a friend of Goethe and \nSchiller, I may venture to ask your assistance in \nthe volume which I am preparing, and which is to \nconsist of the principal ' minor poems ' of those \ntwo authors. My plan is to present a faithful trans- \nlation of all the most characteristic and important \nlyrics of these two men, so selected and arranged \nas to exhibit as much as possible of their spirit, and \nin some measure to tell their internal history, to \nmark the different phases through which their \nminds passed, to show them as they were acted \nupon by the circumstances of their terrestrial edu- \ncation. Thus of Schiller I should wish to give \nsome specimens of his earliest and most impas- \nsioned poetry, and then some which is more \ntinged with his philosophical speculations, and all \nof those riper and calmer productions of thought \nand views of life. Of Goethe I would not omit his \npantheistic pieces, which come under the general \ntitle of ' God and the World,' although these will \nbe very difficult to accomplish. \n\n\" I am to have the assistance of Professors Long- \nfellow and Felton, of Rev. Dr. Frothingham, of \nMiss M. Fuller, C. T. Brooks, etc., all of whom \nhave entered upon the work with spirit. But we \nmust fill out three hundred and fifty pages, and \nexecute all with great care, so that we need a good \ndeal of assistance. I hope you will take mercy \nupon me in my desperate expedition, and send me \nsomething. \n\n\" As to the method of translation, I wish in all \n\n\n22 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ncases to preserve the form as well as the spirit; for \nin lyric poetry the form is part of the substance. \nTo retain the very idea of the author, with the exact \nrhythm and rhyme, and the fervor and grace of ex- \npression, is the ideal to which we ought certainly to \naim; and then it will not be our fault if we fall \nshort.\" \n\nBesides those persons mentioned in this letter, \nDwight had the assistance of George Bancroft, \nWilliam H. Channing, Frederic H. Hedge, and \nChristopher P. Cranch. He did not have the aid, \nhowever, of Felton and Longfellow. \n\nInto the notes much labor was put, and of a help- \nful kind. The first one was of considerable length, \nand presented Dwight's theory of translation. The \nother notes gave the circumstances of the writing \nof the poems, and such explanations as made them \nreadable by those not familiar with the literary his- \ntory of the two poets. \n\nAn interesting incident in connection with this \nbook was its dedication, in these words : \" To \nThomas Carlyle, as a slight token of admiration \nand gratitude, this volume is respectfully inscribed \nby the Translator.\" In October, 1838, Dwight \nwrote in this wise for permission to insert this \ndedication: — \n\n\" My friend, Mr. R. W. Emerson, whom I had de- \nsired to write to you and make a rather presumptu- \nous request in my behalf, has exhorted me to do the \nthing myself. As a young student of German let- \nters, following out gratefully, but unworthily, the \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING ^3 \n\nimpulse which he owes in great part to your writ- \nings, and now about to present some of the first- \nfruits of his studies to the public, in the shape of \ntranslations, will you allow me the gratification of \ndedicating them to you ? The whole task has \nbeen pleasant to me, though I fear for the result. \nIt has been, on my part, active conversation with \ngreater minds, and an attempt to get nearer to \nthem by striving to reproduce some of their works. \nWhat I have to show for it will show most un- \nworthily, no doubt ; but it has been honest, hearty \nlabor, and has met with such sincere encourage- \nment from a circle of friends whose judgment I re- \nspect, and whose sympathies are with the highest, \nthat I have determined to let it go forth, and to \nlet Goethe and Schiller appear in such imperfect \ncopies as I have been able to make of some of their \ndivine lyrics in the moments when they have most \nfilled my fancy and spoken to my experience. \nThat I have done them in this way is my only \nhope for them. It makes them sweet memorials to \nmyself, though they may look poorly to others. In \nfilling up a volume, however, some things have had \nto be done mechanically, more for completeness' \nsake, and for others, than from any special impulse \nof my own ; and this the more as I have adopted \nand carried out the principle, in translating these \npoems, of preserving the form always with the \nspirit, as being, in fact, inseparable from it in a \nlyric. Generally, I have caught the music of the \npiece, and walked about with it ringing through \n\n\n24 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nme, while I pondered and digested the substance, \nand in this way has the Hteral imitation become \nnatural and free. \n\n\" The book is to be one of the series of ' Speci- \nmens of Foreign Standard Literature,' edited by \nRev. George Ripley, and will be entitled ' Se- \nlect Minor Poems from Goethe and Schiller.' It \nwill contain a pretty full collection of the songs, \nballads, etc., of those men, and many of the philo- \nsophical and art poems and dithyrambics of Goethe. \nI have selected chiefly such pieces as have struck \nmy fancy, such as steal upon my memory at \ntimes as fit representations of inward experiences, \nwherein all must recognize something of their own. \nSeveral translations have been contributed by my \nfriends, among whose names, possibly, you will rec- \nognize one or two acquaintances. This account of \nthe plan of the work, of the feelings and methods \nwith which it has been growing together most nat- \nurally and pleasantly, I have felt bound to give you \nbefore asking leave to connect your name with it \nin any way. Most pleasant of all will it be, when \nit is all done, to inscribe one page to the most suc- \ncessful interpreter of the beauties and deep wealth \nand wisdom of German mind to the English \npeople, with whom, in spirit at least, we younger \nand ruder Americans, New Englanders, claim to be \nnumbered. Most pleasant will it be to acknowl- \nedge many a deep inward obligation, which the \nyoung man in his self-culture feels to the friendly \nspirit that goes before him, leaving such a pure \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 25 \n\nlight behind him, to surprise and invite the hum- \nblest onward.\" \n\n\" Your very courteous letter has just been \nhanded to me,\" Carlyle wrote in reply. \" I answer \nwithout delay, what you have reason to expect, that \nI am flattered and honored by your proposal ; that, \nif such a dedication can seem in any way desirable \nto you, it cannot be other than gratifying to me. \n\n\" My best wishes go with you in your enterprise. \nAmong the Germans are to be found true singers: \nthe only true ones we have had for a great while, \nwith any such compass of melody ; the last we are \nlikely to have, I think, for a great while. You do \nwell to unseal their voices for them in that great \nwestern land. They are countrymen, kinsmen of \nours, these Deutschen ; and truly, in the speaking \nor singing department, the chief of the family at \npresent. In the doing and divining department, \nagain we Saxons, Englanders New and Old, may \nset up for the first. Honor to each after his kind ! \n\n\" Your mood of mind is the right one for a trans- \nlator. The tune of a Poem, especially if it be a \nGoethe's Poem, is the soul of the whole, round \nwhich all, the very thoughts no less than the words, \nshapes and modulates itself. The tune is to be got \nhold of before anything else is got. And yet each \nlanguage has its genius, its capabilities. Your task \nis a difficult one. For the rest there is no alchemy \nlike good will. \n\n\" It is several years now since I quitted that \nprovince of things, but I feel still and shall ever \n\n\n26 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nfeel its great importance to the whole modern \nworld ; and it is a real pleasure to me, on looking \nround, to observe so many generous fellow-laborers, \non this side of the ocean and on that, who have \ntaken up the cause in such a fashion as to insure \nfair play to it in the long run. Go on, and prosper. \n\n\" May I ask you to present my kind remem- \nbrances to Mr. Ripley .f* I have many friends in \nyour country whom I know not how to thank. If \nyou see Emerson, say I wrote to him lately out of \nScotland, and mean to write again in some two \nweeks by a speedier conveyance.\" \n\nOn the appearance of the book a copy was at \nonce sent to Carlyle, with a note of thanks and ex- \nplanation. In due time there came in reply the \nfollowing characteristic letter : — \n\nCheyne Row, London, 14 March, 1839. \n\nMy dear Sir, — Your letter by the \" Royal Will- \niam \" reached me yesterday. The Book it referred \nto had not then arrived. But, strangely enough, \nKennett, the dilatory Kennett, inspired by I know \nnot what good genius, had in those same hours be- \nthought himself and set his messengers in motion; \nand so, returning from a friend's late last night, I \nfound your Packet lying safe in waiting for me. \nMrs. Austin and Miss Martineau are both in town. \nThey shall have their copies, if they have not al- \nready got them. Mrs. Jameson is gone to Ger- \nmany and Dresden some days ago, so that hers, \nI suppose, must lie till her return, which was not \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 2^ \n\nexpected to be very distant. Such a volume would \nhave been a welcome thing to carry round with her \nto Weimar. However, it will doubtless find its \nway thither by and by, and be welcome, arrive \nwhen it may. \n\nFor myself I thank you very cordially for this \nGift, for the copy specially assigned me, and for the \nkind Inscription prefixed to all the copies. It is \ngood news that any one esteems us, better and \nbetter when our favorer is one whom we ourselves \ncan esteem. Of course, I have not yet been able \nto give your volume such an examination as I well \ndesign for it; but I have looked here and there, \nread largely here and there, read your notes nearly \naltogether, and know tolerably whereabouts you \nare. It seems to be a volume creditable to New \nEngland, to yourself and all your coadjutors, well \nworthy of the creditable publication it forms part \nof. With great pleasure I recognize in you the \nmerit, the rarest of all in Goethe's translators, yet \nthe first condition, without which every other merit \nis impossible, that of understanding your original. \nYou seem to me to have actually deciphered for \nyourself, and got to behold and see the lineaments \nof this great mind, so that you know what it \nmeans and what its words mean. I have heard \nfrom no English writer w^hatever as much truth as \nyou write in these notes about Goethe. I might \nsay nowhere else at all among English writers any- \nthing but partiality, misapprehension, non-vision, \ngleams of insight bewildered in a mass of halluci- \n\n\n28 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nnations, leaving no image for us but at bottom that \nof a vague large blamable Impossibility, Interpre- \ntation of detached pieces in such circumstances is \nhopeless. In the contrary circumstances there may \nbe hope in it. I like many of the versions very \nwell. Your songs seem to me to be the best, far \nbetter than one has seen hitherto, than one could \nhave expected to see. The Epigrammatic Aphor- \nistic matter, too, is sometimes wonderfully success- \nful. At other times the quaint felicity of the ex- \npression is lost (I know nothing in writing more \ndifficult to preser\\'e), but the sense even in these \ncases is there. Schiller was much easier to do. \nOn the whole, I must congratulate you on getting \nthrough so handsomely. It was an enterprise \nw^herein failure to a very high degree need not \nhave been dishonorable. Among your helpers I \nnotice my old acquaintance Channing, and greatly \napprove of his \" Kennst Du das Land } \" \n\nHow the public will receive your book is perhaps \nvery doubtful, perhaps not very momentous. One \ngreat acquisition you have infallibly made, far be- \nyond what any Public could do for you, — the ac- \nquisition of a Teacher and Prophet for yourself. \nAlone of men, very far beyond all other men, \nGoethe seemed to me to have understood his cen- \ntury, to have conquered his century, and made that, \ntoo, for himself a portion of universal Time, a por- \ntion of Eternity. Glory to the strong man ! say I. \nJoy over all the race of men ! Such a man is as \na Prometheus, who in a time of midnight and \n\n\nPREACHING AND TRANSLATING 29 \n\nspectres miraculously brings fire and light out of \nHeaven itself ; and his sacred urn is burning here \namong us still for long generations, whereat the \nrest of us can, according to our need, kindle lights. \nWhat all this means, I believe you know. It is \nnow long that I have ceased to speak much about \nsuch things ; but they are not forgotten for all that. \nThere is a time to speak of them, there comes also \na time to be silent of them, and, if possible, do \nbetter than speak. \n\nYour scheme of activity pleases me well. Taken \nup in singleness of heart, with modesty, with cheer- \nful courage to do and to endure, it cannot but lead \nyou towards a good goal. Neither must poverty \ndepress you overmuch. Poverty is no bad com- \npanion for a young man. No degree of poverty \nwhatever can permanently hold down a man in \nwrong courses. Nay, the best and highest course \nfor a man, where his duty and blessedness do lie, \nis often enough one of great and greatest poverty. \nHeed not poverty. Speak to your fellow-men what \nthings you have made out by the grace of God. \nA far fataller enemy than poverty is one to w^hich \nnot many of us, but all of us, are liable in this \ncareer: the thrice cursed sin of Self-conceit, bred \noftener by riches than by Poverty ! God deliver us \nall from that, send us whatever of \"ill fortune\" \nis needful to deliver us from that! \n\nI write in great haste, but with little prospect of \nspeedy leisure, and therefore to-day rather than \nto-morrow. Pray thank Mr. Ripley for his valued \n\n\n30 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nbook, which lay nearly a year hidden somewhere, \nbut did appear in fine. \n\nWith best wishes and thanks, \n\nYours very sincerely, \n\nT. Carlyle. \n\nIn writing to Emerson, under date of April 17, \n1839, Carlyle said: \"I received D wight's book, \nliked it, and have answered him : a good youth of \nthe kind you describe. No Englishman, to my \nknowledge, has uttered as much sense about \nGoethe and German things.\" In March Emerson \nhad written to Carlyle : \" I hope you liked John \nDwight's translations of Goethe and notes. He is \na good, susceptible, yearning soul, not so apt to \ncreate as to receive with the freest allowance ; but \nI like his book very much.\" \n\nIn the letters of these years there are hints of \nvarious activities and interests, hymns written for \nthe ordination of Theodore Parker and on other \noccasions, a visit full of satisfaction to Dr. Chan- \nning at Newport, attendance upon the meetings of \nthe little company of Transcendentalists, intimate \nfriendship with Ripley, a cordial correspondence \nwith Brooks, Parker, Samuel Osgood, Bellows, \nHedge, Elizabeth Peabody, Mrs. George Ripley, \nand others. \n\n\nCHAPTER III. \n\nAT NORTHAMPTON. \n\nIn 1839 there came the promise of a pulpit of \nhis own to Dwight. During that year he preached \nwith acceptance at South Boston, Dover, N.H., and \nNorthampton, Mass. In each of these places it \nseemed probable that he might be invited to settle. \nHe went to Northampton for a few Sundays in \nJuly. He became at once interested in the society, \nand he threw himself most actively into the work \nof visiting and building up the congregation. \nEarly in the next year he was asked to preach \nagain at Northampton. He was invited to become \nthe minister of the little Unitarian parish, and he \nwas ordained in May. \n\nFrom the first the people were not wholly satis- \nfied with Dwight's preaching and methods of work. \nIt was only a little more than fifteen years before \nthat the church had separated from the original \nparish of the town, which still strongly retained the \nimpress of the work of Jonathan Edwards. Calvin- \nism was strongly intrenched in the Connecticut \nValley in 1820, and the worst features of the revival \nmethods were still in vogue. Those who withdrew \nfrom the Edwards parish in 1823 were Unitarians \nof the most conservative type, and they were not \nprepared for other innovations than those they had \nalready made. Into this town of Puritan traditions \ncame a young man full of modern ideas and \nmethods, a Transcendentalist when Transcendental- \n\n\n32 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nism was condemned everywhere, and one not con- \ntented until he had tried his own experiments and \nput his own devices into operation. There was \nmuch debate, long hesitation, and a final invitation, \nbut with a considerable number lukewarm or op- \nposed. \n\nIt must not be understood, however, that Dwight \nwas an extremist at this time. His long statement \nof belief furnished to the parish would now be re- \ngarded as conservative, and would doubtless sufiice \nto admit him into not a few evangelical churches \nof the present day. It was in what he omitted of \nconventional words and forms and in the new \nmethods he introduced that the cause of hesitation \non the part of the congregation was to be found. \nAt last, however, all objections seemed removed; \nand Dwight accepted the call offered in February. \nHe was to receive a salary of six hundred dollars. \nHe was ordained on May 20, the sermon being \npreached by his friend George Ripley, and the \ncharge given by Dr. Channing. \n\nOn the Sunday following his ordination Dwight \nwrote to his sister: \"In the full blaze of morning \nI woke in terror. More than half the sermons still \nremained before me. Then came an intense day. \nSomehow mysteriously I got through it, as I had \nno right to hope. I scratched away in the morn- \ning, and got one done, and went and preached it. \nIt was on ' The Church,' an attempt to set forth the \ntrue and simple idea of a Christian community, \nwhich should be unsectarian, exclusive in nothing, \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 33 \n\nand based on the common interests and sympa- \nthies of all humanity. The text for the whole day \nwas from i Corinthians : ' Though I be free from \nall men, yet have I made myself servant unto all, \nthat I might gain the more.' This opened three \ntopics: (i) the end of the ministry to increase the \nchurch, — 'that I might gain the more'; (2) the min- \nister as a minister or servant of the church, — ' I \nmade myself servant unto all'; (3) the minister as \na man, the independence of the minister, — ' though \nI be free from all men.' I preached the first head \nin the morning, and it gave great delight. I men- \ntion it because it was the most liberal view ever \npresented of the church. I hurried home, and \nsketched something rapidly for the p.m. on the \nother two heads, which I filled out extempore. It \nwas an exceeding trial, both for the intense mental \nexercise in planning and executing and on account \nof the mortification it cost me on account of my \ndelinquency. The church was unusually full, — if \nanything, fuller than on Wednesday. I spoke ear- \nnestly, but blundered and stammered not a little, \nrepeated myself, and left out most things, and came \ndown from the pulpit in confusion. But, to my \ngreat surprise, every one was satisfied, and many \nenthusiastic. And so I learned the lesson : a true \npurpose is power, though it have no hands. \n\n\" After church I walked down with Judge Lyman \nand Dr. Channing to visit old Judge Hinkley, who \nis near his end. I could not help thinking again \nhow Providence, in all things, favors me ; that, on \n\n\n34 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nthe first time of my being called to the trying and \nnew situation of administering peace at a death- \nbed, Dr. Channing, of all men, should be with me. \nHis talk and his prayer were most touching. I \nvisit the old judge daily since, with confidence. \nThen I ran half-way up Round Hill, and sat on the \ngrass an hour, drinking the beauty and the melody. \nHow this beauty revives one! I was tolerably \nrested by it, and proceeded up to Edward Clarke's, \nand took tea with the Channings, the Lymans, and \nMr. and Mrs. Rogers, the most beautiful company \nwhich could be assembled on a beautiful evening \non a glorious hill. At sunset we all went down to \nMrs. Hunt's, where we had a conversation meeting, \nat Dr. Channing's suggestion. The house was \ncrowded. We talked over the morning's sermon \nand the 'church.' Dr. Channing talked a great \ndeal, and closed with a prayer which was inspira- \ntion. The effect of his visit has been most happy \non all the people. He has been the true friend and \ngodfather here to me. He knows half my people, \nis interested in our church, and thinks he sees the \nfirst signs of true life and progress. I spent most \nof Monday morning with him, and then took leave \nof him in sadness.\" A few days later Dr. Channing \nsent him the following letter about his sermon : — \n\nMy dear Sir, — I return \" Bettine \" by Miss Lyman. \nThere w^as one part of your sermon about which I \ndid not speak to you. You said the minister was to \nhave his friends. True, but he must here practise \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 35 \n\nsome self-denial. He must avoid all exclusiveness, \nand beware of giving real ground for jealousy. He \nmust wait, too, long enough to understand those \naround him, that he may not rashly give a confi- \ndence which he must afterwards withdraw. In this \nway the young minister brings on himself silent but \nreal dislikes. I hope I am legible, for the state of \nmy hand hardly allows me to write. \n\nYours truly, etc., \n\nStockbridge, May 29. W. E. C. \n\nA letter written to Dwight on the day of his \nordination, by Miss Elizabeth P. Peabody, gives \nindication of one of his limitations as a preacher. \nIt is such a frank and generous letter as only a \nfriend can write. \"What I am going to say,\" she \nwrites, \"respects some part of your services. A \ncertain want of fluency in prayer has been the real \ncause of your want of outward success more than \nany other thing ; and, even in the place where you \nare, it is felt, although overlooked in the estimation \nof your many high and beautiful gifts. Now it has \nalways seemed to me as if a few hints from another \nwould remedy this deficiency, but I felt there was a \ndifficulty in giving them while you were yet a can- \ndidate, because there would be something painfully \nembarrassing to a mind noble and delicate as yours \nin the consciousness of praying with reference to \nthe criticisms of an audience. I suppose the evil \nhas originated in your idea of being spontaneous. \nYou have thought there was falsehood, perhaps, \n\n\n36 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nin making an exercise of this kind a subject of \nmeditation and composition. You have heard so \nmuch formal praying that you have shrunk from it \nas the only evil. But in your case it was hardly to \nbe feared : you might premeditate and even write, \nand still there be no danger of your losing sight of \nGod or losing feeling. Moreover, I think that, even \non your own plan, if you would be very short, and \nas soon as you feel yourself hesitate should close, \nyou would outgrow it, especially as now you will \nfind yourself much more at ease. I remember Mr. \nE[merson] said that once you had a theory about \npreaching of the same kind, and did not put enough \nintellectual labor into the composition of a sermon. \nBut you have got over that, and hence I infer that \nyou may change your mind about prayer. It is \nright for me to say that, when I heard you preach \nlast, I felt nothing but pleasure in the prayer, which \nseemed to me full, free, and rich, and should have \nsupposed that the difficulty was completely out- \ngrown, but that I have heard what is said about it \nat Northampton and elsewhere. I certainly know \nno one else in such a state of palpable growth as \nyourself, save and excepting Mr. E. I was charmed \nand interested by your first sermons, but felt your \nimprovement in practical talent to be very great. \nThe last years of your life, in which you have borne \nan apparent failure with such courage, dignity, and \nbeauty, have done for you, palpably, what no out- \nward success could have done. It has turned you \nvisibly from a child into a man in bearing; and, in \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 37 \n\nhoping for you now a continued prosperity, I can \nhope for nothing more than that you should adorn \nit as you have adorned adversity.\" \n\nWith the aid of George Ripley the ordination \nservices were printed in full in a neat pamphlet, in \nBoston, during the autumn. In the summer and \nlater on there was correspondence with Charles T. \nBrooks about a volume of German poems, which \nBrooks was translating, and in the preparation of \nwhich he desired, and received, Dwight's help. \nFrom letters to his family and friends, his doings \nand thinkings may be briefly chronicled. \n\n\" Had a fine day Sunday with old sermons,\" he \nwrote September 4. \" The people looked so glad \nand expectant. After services I rode out with the \nLorings to Mrs. Child, and spent one of the most \ndelightful evenings of my life.\" This was Ellis \nGray Loring and Lydia Maria Child. \" I have \nlived in high clover this week,\" he wrote October \n12. \"Two whole Sundays from Cranch ! He has \ncompletely won the hearts of our people. I have \nnever listened to four sermons all so noble and \nso inspiring. I feel eclipsed in his success. He \nought to be renowned and sought for in the \nchurches, but his day is coming. Nothing has \ngratified me more since I have been here than to \nwitness the warm response of our people to his \nbold and stirring declarations of truth. I feel as if \nthe victory was won in regard to liberty of opinion \nhere, and he feels that it is the freest and most \ngenial atmosphere in which he has spoken.\" \n\n\n38 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nA week later he wrote : \" I enjoyed Cranch's \nvisit prodigiously. Saturday I taught singing- \nschool, had conversation meeting in the evening, \nat which I taxed my mind more than usual, and \nmade the fullest statement, which I have ever yet \nsucceeded in getting out, of my idea of Christ and \nChristianity.\" \n\n\" When I got back,\" he says November 8, \" I \nfound a beautiful present from New York, — Beet- \nhoven's opera ' Fidelio.' The same night I found \na letter from Dr. Stedman, written in behalf of \nDitson, the music publisher, asking me to make \na translation from the German of Matthison's \n* Adelaide,' and adapt it to Beethoven's music \nfor publication. The letter contained a copy of \nBeethoven's letter of dedication to Matthison. \nThese two things came in upon me together, just \nas one of my old Beethoven fits was growing upon \nme. I have played through ever so many sonatas \nthis week.\" \n\nWriting to one of his sisters under date of Jan. \n12, 1 84 1, Dwight gives an account of his work in \ndetail : \" Shall I give you the order of performances \nfor one week ? Sunday evening, a conversation or \na teachers' meeting; Monday, Shakspere; Tues- \nday, Glee Club ; Wednesday, choir meeting ; Thurs- \nday, the Ladies' Whist Club, alias 'The Sociable'; \nSaturday, singing-school for children, — not to men- \ntion parties and such like. Then there are things \nto be written, things to be read. I incline to books, \nand would pass the day with them if it were pos- \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 39 \n\nsible. They give me more satisfaction than men \njust now. The Dial I have nearly devoured since \nSunday. It even clipped the borders of my ser- \nmon some, it was so irresistible a dainty. It is a \nsplendid number ; and I cannot but thank the good \nsouls who wrote in it, they have given me so much \nof inward comfort and beautiful thoughts. You \nshall have it erelong.\" \n\nThe conversation meetings which Dwight men- \ntions several times were not an invention of his \nown. He probably took the idea of them from Dr. \nCharles Follen, who was for several years the min- \nister of the little church in East Lexington. It was \nDr. Pollen's idea that the religious services of the \nchurches were too stiff and formal, not sufficiently \nspontaneous, and did not give the people oppor- \ntunity enough to ask questions and to express their \nown opinions. He planned a church at East Lex- \nington, with the pulpit near the centre, wherein \npastor and people could freely interchange ideas. \nHis hope was that a new life would be awakened \nby this free spirit in the church, and that there \nwould result a deepening of the religious life. His \ndeath on the ill-fated steamer \" Lexington,\" as he \nwas returning from New York to the dedication of \nthe church, prevented his realizing his idea of a free \nchurch, in which the service should be the joint ex- \npression of the worshipful spirit of both the minister \nand congregation. His abilities as a scholar, his \nfree spirit as a thinker and social reformer, and his \ndeeply religious instinct, would have led him to \n\n\n40 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nuse wisely the fresh and earnest methods he pro- \nposed. Dwight took from him the idea of meetings \nfor conversation on religious subjects, wherein all \nshould speak freely, and in which it was sought to \ncultivate the spirit of devotion in simple earnest- \nness. \n\nDwight read the Dial with much interest, and \nprocured several subscribers for it in Northampton \nand Greenfield. He was a contributor to the first \nvolume, the opening number publishing one of his \nsermons under the title of \" Religion of Beauty,\" \nand an article by him on \" Concerts of the Past \nWinter,\" being those of Boston. In the third and \nfourth numbers appeared a sermon under the title \nof \" Ideals of Every-day Life.\" Some of his interest \nin this publication may be understood from a por- \ntion of a letter to him from Mrs. George Ripley: \n\"We are heartily rejoiced that you like the Dial \nwell. George, Margaret, and Theodore [Ripley, \nParker, and Miss Fuller] all run it down unmerci- \nfully. It has not fire and flame enough for them, \nbut the reflected approbation of the public makes \nthem seem more truly to appreciate it now. It is \nthought by many — myself among the number — a \nvery charming book. Miss Peabody says: 'It is \ndomestic, giving the every-day state of feeling and \nthought of the writers. There is no effort about it, \nand much strength behind.' The next number will \nbe great. We cannot answer your inquiries with \nregard to the poetry in the Dial, especially that \n* sweet, sad melody ' you speak of. Margaret sup- \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 41 \n\nplies the poetical department from the confidential \ndeposits of private friendship in her portfolio ; and \nwe agree not to know the names of the pieces w^e \nmost admire, that we may always have an answer \nfor those who ask us.\" \n\n\" You have seen the Dial, of course,\" wrote Rip- \nley in July. \" I hope you like it better than I do. \nIt is quite unworthy, I think, of its pretensions; \nand unless the everlasting hills, to which we have \nlooked for help, give us something more than this, \nthey had better cease to be parturient. Pray send \nus the remainder of that homily on * The Church at \nWork,' etc., or whatever you may have stronger and \nbetter. I like your ' Rest ' still more in print than \nI did in MS. It is an exquisite expression of a \nnoble and true thought. Your article on ' Con- \ncerts ' is an atoning offering for the many sins of \nthe DiaL I do not fancy the ' Religion of Beauty ' \nso much as I expected to do. It is unfinished. \nAlmost every sentence promises something better \nthan we get, and the sum total is a feeling of disap- \npointment. Do give us some truly artistic product, \nbe it ever so small. Your beautiful improvisations \nare a sin against your own soul ; and, unless you \nrepent and mend your ways, you will be damned \nwhen the day of judgment comes.\" \n\n\" How glad I am that you like the Dial so well ! \" \nwrote Ripley a month later, \" and that the saints in \nNorthampton and Deerfield also have an eye for its \nmerits. The best judges, though, I think, generally \nare disappointed. It was not prononce enough. \n\n\n42 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nThey expected hoofs and horns, while it proved as \ngentle as any sucking dove. The next number, I \ntrust, will make amends. Still, this has produced \na decided sensation. I feared it would fall dead ; \nbut there is no dread of that now. People seem \nto look on with wonder ; while the Philistines, who \ndare show out, are wrathy as fighting-cocks. Pray \nsend on your articles without delay; and, if you \nhave any more such dainty verses as the last, let \nthem come, too.\" \n\nAt the end of Dwight's first contribution to the \nDial appeared a poem bearing the title \" Rest,\" to \nwhich Ripley refers with words of praise. Although \nimmediately following the article on the \" Religion \nof Beauty,\" it does not form an integral part of it. \nThis poem has been frequently reprinted, and for \nmany years it was popularly supposed to be a trans- \nlation from the German of Goethe. It was written \nby Dwight himself, and it is the one poem of his \nthat has become popular and secured the honor of \nfamiliar quotation. It will be given here in full as \nthe Dial first printed it : — \n\nREST. \n\nSweet is the pleasure \n\nItself cannot spoil ! \nIs not true leisure \n\nOne with true toil ? \n\nThou that wouldst taste it, \n\nStill do thy best ; \nUse it, not waste it, \n\nElse 'tis no rest. \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 43 \n\nWouldst behold beauty \n\nNear thee, all round ? \nOnly hath duty, \n\nSuch a sight found. \n\nRest is not quitting \n\nThe busy career : \nRest is the fitting \n\nOf self to its sphere. \n\n'Tis the brook's motion, \n\nClear without strife, \nFleeing to ocean \n\nAfter its life. \n\nDeeper devotion \n\nNowhere hath knelt; \nFuller emotion \n\nHeart never felt. \n\n'Tis loving and serving \n\nThe Highest and Best ! \n'Tis onwards ! unswerving, \n\nAnd that is true rest. \n\nDwight had other literary tasks in hand than that \nof contributing to the Dial. He writes to Brooks \nof a \"great parcel of songs for Lowell Mason, \nmost of which were more imitations than transla- \ntions.\" \" I am under engagement to Ripley,\" he \nwrote Aug. 14, 1840, \"to make a volume of Herder \nabout that terrible Spinoza, etc., this autumn. I \nhave postponed it all summer, and have but just \ngot a chance to begin.\" In April the next year he \nwrote, \" I have promised Ripley to make a volume \nor two from Goethe's prose, which ought to be \n\n\n44 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhalf-done by this time, but is scarcely begun.\" \nNeither of these tasks was completed, and it is \ndoubtful if they were ever really undertaken. \n\nWhen the anniversary of his ordination came \nround, Dwight took occasion to review his year's \nwork, to point out in what ways it had not satisfied \nhim, and to indicate how it might be improved. \nHe spoke freely of some criticisms made upon his \npreaching which had come to him ; and he said \nthat the objections arose from the fact that the \npeople were worldly, and therefore not desirous of \nhaving the truth freely spoken. These sermons \nrevived the discontent, and gave occasion for its \nbreaking out in a serious manner. He attempted \nto heal the breach, sought to explain his words, to \nreconcile the malcontents, and to restore harmony. \nTen days after the outburst he wrote : \" I have \nnever felt in better spirits than since the painful \neffort of yesterday. In the first place, I feel that \nI have done my duty. In the next place, it has \nshown me who are my friends, and what warm and \ntrue friends they are.\" \n\n\" From all that I have discovered,\" he wrote \nJune 2 2, \"of the character of the individuals of \nwhom my society is composed, I feel more and \nmore convinced that the relation between us never \ncould have been lasting, that I never entirely un- \nderstood the heterogeneous compound, that, had I \ndone twice as much as I have, had I neglected no \nmeans or precaution which occurred to me, it could \nnot have altered the case. The truth is, the true \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 45 \n\nstate of things was from the first concealed from \nme. The enthusiasm of that ordination time de- \nceived us. There were many who came reluctantly \ninto the measure of my settlement. But all went \non so quietly that I had reason to suppose that \neverybody was interested as much as could be ex- \npected. As it is, I know that a great many have \nbeen and still are deeply interested in my services, \nand are grieved exceedingly that a separation \nshould take place. Very nearly all the women, \nand a majority of the men, I count upon confi- \ndently. But the favor with which I am looked \nupon by the female portion seems to be one chief \noffence. It is strange that my friends and my \nopposers know so little of each other.\" A few \ndays later he wrote : \" I am free ! I heard nothing \nof the doings of the parish meeting till three days \nafter. It w^as very thinly attended, and most of my \nfriends were absent.\" \n\nDwight spent the summer and autumn in North- \nampton, enjoying the beauties of nature and devot- \ning himself to literary labors. He preached a few \ntimes in neighboring towns, and he spent much \ntime in wandering over the hills. His letters show \nan exquisite appreciation of all the quieter phases \nof nature around him. He was planning and pre- \nparing for the future. August 20 he gave a lect- \nure before the American Institute of Instruction \non \" Simplicity of Character as affected by the \nCommon Systems of Education.\" Before the Har- \nvard Musical Association, August 25, he gave an \n\n\n46 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\naddress on music, which was published in Hack's \nMusical Magazine for September. \n\n\" The da3^s are quite filled up,\" he writes Sep- \ntember 24; \"yet I have done little but study and \nread and muse with reference to the coming \nlectures. I have just got through two long jobs, — \nthe writing off and correcting my two addresses for \nthe press, which I have sent to Boston. The \nmusical address will appear soon in Hack's Maga- \nzine, and a few copies will be done up separately in \npamphlet form. I have nearly doubled the length \nof it in writing it over, and I feel now that it is \nthe happiest statement of my feelings about music \nwhich I have yet written. As I delivered it, it \nseemed loose and badly hung together, though it \nhad a unity in my mind. I have now put a back- \nbone into it, which holds all the parts firmly and \nsystematically together.\" \n\nThe lectures referred to were on music, and they \nwere prepared before his return to Boston in No- \nvember. Early in the summer he wrote his friends \nin behalf of a course of popular lectures on music, \nand he soon had a number of engagements for \ntheir delivery. The winter was devoted in part to \nthis work and to other literary employments. \n\nAfter leaving Northampton, Dwight preached \nhalf a dozen times, and then quietly dropped out of \na profession which he felt was no longer congenial. \nIn reply to an invitation from Dr. Flint, of Salem, \nto fill his pulpit for a few Sundays, Dwight wrote \nfrom Brook Farm, under date of June 18, 1842: \n\n\nAT NORTHAMPTON 47 \n\n\" The truth is, my mind has been for some time \npast verging more and more away from the clerical \nprofession. Already I had resolved never again to \nbe settled (even if I could be, which is doubtful); \nand now, just as I received your request, I was seri- \nously deliberating the question whether to preach \nagain at all. I have doubts about the Church. I \nagree with Parker mainly as to the essence of \nChristianity. I disincline more and more to the \nforms, especially public prayer. I have less sympa- \nthy than I had with the prevailing spirit of the \nchurches, and less hope of ever being able to mould \nthe Church and the profession to my idea, so that I \ncould be true to my conviction while continuing in \nthem ; and, in this state of mind, while I cannot go \nheartily and with my whole soul into a pulpit, I \nfeel that it would be false to do it at all, either from \nold habit or for the sake of the livelihood, or re- \nspectable connection which I might derive from it. \nFor the present, therefore, I decline all invitations \nto preach, not pledging myself with regard to the \nfuture, but yet seeing little prospect of my being \nreconciled to the profession or the profession to \nme. \n\n\" What pangs this costs me, what breaking of old \nhopes fondly cherished, and what plunging upon a \nnew sea of uncertainties, I have not time or spirit \nto detail to you. But I know you will approve my \ncourse of action, such being my state of mind, and \nwill give me credit for all willingness and desire to \nhelp you, were it only consistent with my sense of \nduty.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER IV. ' \nBROOK FARM. \n\nIt was a time of intense intellectual ferment \nwhen Dwight began the work of his life. The \nTranscendental movement was just getting under \nway, and he entered into the spirit of it with great \nenthusiasm. The stir of social discontent he fully \nshared with many of his friends. The eager wish \nfor a pure and rational religion was his in a large \ndegree. In these and other directions he was a \nchild of his time in the truest sense, sharing its \nhopes, joining in its aspirations, and ready to labor \nfor the realization of its ideals. \n\nWhen the Transcendental Club was started in \nBoston, he was a member from the first. He was \nintimately connected with all the men who be- \nlonged to it, and had known them as friends for \nsome years. They felt him to be one of them- \nselves, a sharer in their convictions and one worthy \nof their confidence. They saw in him fine traits \nof character, capacity for noble achievements, and \nsomewhat of the high gift of genius. If they saw \nany limitation in his character, it was that he was \nnot sufficiently self-seeking to push his way to the \nhighest successes, and that he lacked the assertive \nwill which is the promise of great achievements. \nHe won their affection, however, and secured their \nloyal friendship. He fully shared in their intel- \nlectual hopes, and he was not behind any of them \nin that loyalty to conviction which counts not the \ncost for the sake of truth. \n\n\nBROOK FARM 49 \n\nThese qualities of his character were well brought \nout by his connection with Brook Farm. His inti- \nmacy with George Ripley and his wife, which had \nbeen of several years' duration, undoubtedly had \nsomething to do with his interest in that experi- \nment. It was not this alone, however, which led \nhim to join his friends in this effort at practical re- \nform. Far more than Ripley himself, he was by \nnature destined to cast in his lot with such an effort \nto regenerate society. A born idealist, by temper- \nament an enthusiast, and by conviction a come- \nouter from the conventionalities of society and re- \nligion, he was one who could see the promise of \nsuch a movement, and forsake all things cheerfully \nfor its sake. It was not a young man's day-dream \nwhich led Dwight to Brook Farm. He never out- \ngrew the convictions of that early time. To the \nday of his death he held firmly to the motives and \naspirations which made him a member of the Brook \nFarm community. \n\nDwight was not one to drop into the common \nways of the world and be content therewith. Wher- \never born or reared, he would have looked at the \nworld with his own eyes, and been unwilling to ac- \ncept the traditional methods of explaining it. Re- \nfined and gentle in all the habits of his mind, an \nintense lover of the beautiful, and aesthetic in his \ntastes and preferences, he seemed not to have in \nhim any of the stuff of a reformer. He certainly was \nnot an iconoclast or one in any way inclined to the \ndestruction of what is old and venerable. It was \n\n\n50 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhis love of beauty, his instinctive yearning for what \nis pure and noble, and his keen desire for moral \njustice which led him to join with those who de- \nsired a better form of society. It was his wish \nto show how a finer and purer life could be lived \nwhen men turned away from greed and gave them- \nselves to what is right and just. \n\nOne of the most characteristic enthusiasms of \nthe time found its best expression at Brook Farm. \nIt was not mere enthusiasm, however, which led to \nthat experiment, but a careful and serious study of \nthe needs of humanity. George Ripley was a man \nof sound intellect, tempered moral purpose, and \nwise insight into human needs. He calmly rea- \nsoned out a method for saving society, and his the- \nories were shared by some of the most judicious \nmen and women of his day. He went to Brook \nFarm in March or April, 1841, with deliberate pur- \npose and high hopes. His wife and a few friends \nwent with him to try the experiment of an indus- \ntrial and social life which should be guided by ra- \ntional aims, and in which all should jointly share \nin securing the good of all. The Articles of As- \nsociation of this community were drawn up on \nSeptember 29, and officers were elected. On the \nfirst of November the Brook Farm Institute of \nAgriculture and Education was organized, and to \nit were transferred the farm and other property \nwhich Mr. Ripley had purchased. \n\nThe objects had in view in the establishment of \nBrook Farm may be best stated in the words of \n\n\nBROOK FARM 51 \n\nGeorge Ripley, its founder and leader. '* Our ob- \njects,\" he wrote, \" are to insure a more natural union \nbetween intellectual and manual labor than now \nexists; to combine the thinker and the worker, as \nfar as possible, in the same individual ; to guarantee \nthe highest mental freedom by providing all with \nlabor adapted to their tastes and talents, and secur- \ning to them the fruits of their industry ; to do away \nwith the necessity of menial services by opening the \nbenefits of education and the profits of labor to all ; \nand thus to prepare a society of liberal, intelligent, \nand cultivated persons, whose relations with each \nother would permit a more simple and wholesome \nlife than can be led amid the pressure of our com- \npetitive institutions.\" The articles of agreement, \ndrawn up in Boston during the winter of 1840-41, \nsomewhat more explicitly set forth the purposes \nhad in view : \" To substitute a system of brotherly \nco-operation for one of selfish competition; to \nsecure to our children, and to those who may be \nintrusted to our care, the benefits of the highest \nphysical, intellectual, and moral education which, in \nthe present state of human knowledge, the resources \nat our command will permit; to institute an at- \ntractive, efficient, and productive system of in- \ndustry; to prevent the exercise of worldly anxiety \nby the competent supply of our necessary wants; \nto diminish the desire of excessive accumula- \ntion by making the acquisition of individual prop- \nerty subservient to upright and disinterested uses ; \nto guarantee to each other the means of physical \n\n\n52 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nsupport and of spiritual progress; and thus to \nimpart a greater freedom, simplicity, truthfulness, \nrefinement, and moral dignity to our mode of life.\" \nWhen Ripley went to the farm in West Roxbury, \nhe was accompanied by his wife, Sophia Willard \nRipley, a woman of ability and learning, self-deny- \ning, and a capable leader, fit to adorn any society, \nand yet accepting the most menial tasks in behalf \nof her faith in the ideal ; and his sister, Marianne \nRipley, a teacher of experience and skill, devoted to \nher brother's interests, but somewhat Puritanic \nand inflexible in character. Soon after they were \njoined by George P. Bradford, a graduate of Har- \nvard College, a gentle and refined soul, a lover of \ngood literature, an able teacher, to which profes- \nsion his life was devoted; Warren Burton, a grad- \nuate of Harvard and a Unitarian preacher, a writer \nof two or three delightful books on educational \nsubjects, especially one on the district school as \nit was ; and Minot Pratt, a printer and student, \na lover of flowers, and a writer on agricultural \nthemes, a gentle and lovable man, with his wife \nand children. On the 12th of April Nathaniel \nHawthorne joined the little community, and a few \nweeks later he set down in his journal an enthusi- \nastic account of the life at the farm. William B. \nAllen became the farmer of the association. In \nthe autumn Charles A. Dana, who had been a stu- \ndent at Harvard, joined his interests with the others; \nand in November John S. Dwight became a mem- \nber. When the association was organized, in the \n\n\nBROOK FARM 53 \n\nautumn of 1841, Ripley was assigned the position \nof chairman and leader, Dana was made the secre- \ntary, and Mrs. Ripley took charge of the educa- \ntional interests. \n\nThe word \" association \" was used by the resi- \ndents at Brook Farm to describe their life, private \nproperty was permitted and encouraged, all paid for \nboard and lodging, and all received wages for the \nwork they performed. It was a definite attempt to \nbring out and develop individual talent and char- \nacter, and every effort was made to prevent same- \nness of thought and expression. At first there was \nan inclination to an excess of individual action, and \nto what Margaret Fuller called \" grotesque freaks \nof Hberty.\" This tendency grew less insistent in \ntime; but the right to individual belief was ac- \nknowledged to the fullest extent, and it was duly \nrespected. Without doubt this freedom of action \nwas one source of weakness in the association ; for \nit hindered united effort, and the needed discipline \nwas not secured. \n\nFor the first three or four years the association \ndevoted itself mainly to agriculture and education. \nThe farm was not a good one, but a considerable \neffort w^as made to add to its productiveness. An \nexperienced farmer was secured to direct the farm \noperations, and all the men were expected to de- \nvote a part of each day to the farm-work. A re- \nturn to nature was much preached at that time, and \nit was thought by many that the cultivation of the \nsoil was the only natural form of labor. It was \n\n\n54 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nmaintained that no one could be sound in body and \nmind who did not cultivate the earth. \" So, in \norder to reform society, in order to regenerate the \nworld, and to realize democracy in the social rela- \ntions,\" as Mr. Dana stated the objects had in view \nby the founders of Brook Farm, \" they determined \nthat their society should first pursue agriculture, \nwhich would give every man plenty of outdoor \nlabor in the free air, and, at the same time, the \nopportunity of study, of instruction, of becoming \nfamiliar with everything in literature and in learn- \ning. \n\nFrom the first the educational object was made \nmore prominent at Brook Farm than agricult- \nure itself. In describing the association, George \nRipley wrote, \" We are a company of teachers.\" \nAnd again he said, \" The branch of industry which \nwe pursue, as our primary object and chief means \nof support, is teaching.\" The educational forces of \nthe association were carefully organized. There \nwas an admirable primary school, which was fol- \nlowed by one preparatory for college, and another \nwhich devoted three years to a practical training in \nagriculture and horticulture. George Ripley taught \nphilosophy and mathematics ; George P. Bradford, \nliterature ; John S. Dwight, music and Latin ; \nCharles A. Dana, Greek and German ; John S. \nBrown, agriculture ; Sophia W. Ripley, history and \nmodern languages. In the primary school the \nteachers were Marianne Ripley, Abby Morton \n(afterward Mrs. Diaz), Georgiana Bruce (after- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 55 \n\nward Mrs. Kirby), and Hannah B. Ripley. In this \ndepartment many others took part as time went on, \nand among them Dwight's sisters. Among the \nstudents were a considerable number who became \nknown to the world for their intellectual ability or \ntheir interest in practical reforms. Much attention \nwas also given to the intellectual interests of the \nadult members of the association. Clubs were \norganized, lectures were given, and books were \nfreely loaned from his library by Mr. Ripley. In \nfact, an intellectual atmosphere surrounded the \nwhole community. All were at school who \nbelonged to it, for many gatherings were held \nthat provided instruction and intellectual stimulus \nto all the members. In the mingling of old and \nyoung in the process of education the association \nwas unique in its methods, few restraints being put \nupon the young, while the old were constantly in- \nvited to keep fully alive their intellectual interests. \nThe life at Brook Farm was very simple, and it \nwas marked by a spirit of co-operation and sym- \npathy. There was a common table, and all the \nmembers joined together in providing social enter- \ntainment. The life was a very happy one. The \nwork of the field or kitchen was relieved by con- \nversation, song, or jest ; and the men did not fail \nto assist in the severer labors of the women. Every \nkindly office of helpfulness the members freely be- \nstowed upon each other, if it was seen to be needed; \nand the young found endless amusement in games \nof every kind. \n\n\n56 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nOn the farm, when it was bought, was a large \nhouse ; and this was named \" The Hive.\" It was \nadded to, and provided kitchen, dining-room, parlor, \nand office, as well as many sleeping-rooms. Across \nthe road was a much smaller farm-house that was \nrented for some months for school purposes, and \nwas christened \" The Nest.\" In time there was \nbuilt on the highest point of land a large house \nthat therefore took the name of \" The Eyrie,\" which \nwas occupied by the Ripleys, and used for school \npurposes, as well as the keeping of Mr. Ripley's \nlibrary. Here, also, were the pianos, with the aid \nof which Dwight carried on musical instruction. A \ncottage was also built, that has been frequently \nnamed after Margaret Fuller, but was not built or \noccupied by her. The Pilgrim, or Morton, house \nwas built by two brothers from Plymouth for their \nfamilies, but soon came into the control of the \nassociation. Then was undertaken the great \nPhalanstery that was burned before completion. \nBarns, a large workshop, and greenhouses were \nalso added to the buildings on the farm. \n\nOn leaving Northampton in the autumn of 1841, \nDwight became a member of the community at \nBrook Farm. In a few remarks made by him, at \nthe close of an address on Brook Farm by Rev. \nO. B. Frothingham, he gave an account of his life \nthere. They explain his purpose in joining the \nassociation, and his mature judgment as to the \noutcome of the experiment. \n\n\"It was my privilege,\" he said, \"to know Mr. \n\n\nBROOK FARM 57 \n\nRipley very intimately for a number of years before \nhe conceived that experiment. When I came out \nof the Divinity Scho'ol at Cambridge, he was my \nfirst warm, helpful, encouraging friend. I was at \nhis house almost daily during that famous contro- \nversy with Andrews Norton. I knew the whole of \nit as it went on. I talked with Mr. Ripley, and \nheard him read his manuscript. \n\n\"After I lived in Northampton, I was very much \nattracted to his idea which resulted in Brook Farm. \nHis aspiration was to bring about a truer state of \nsociety, one in which human beings should stand \nin frank relations of true equality and fraternity, \nmutually helpful, respecting each other's occupa- \ntion, and making one the helper of the other. The \nprime idea was an organization of industry in such \na way that the most refined and educated should \nshow themselves practically on a level with those \nwhose whole education had been hard labor. There- \nfore, the scholars and the cultivated would take \ntheir part also in the manual labor, working on the \nfarm or cultivating nurseries of young trees, or \nthey would even engage in the housework. \n\n\"I remember the night of my first arrival at \nBrook Farm. It had been going on all the sum- \nmer. I arrived in November. At that time it was \na sort of pastoral life, rather romantic, although so \nmuch hard labor was involved in it. They were all \nat tea in the old building, which was called the \nHive. In a long room at a long table they were \ntaking tea, and I sat down with them. When tea \n\n\n58 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nwas over, they were all very merry, full of life ; and \nall turned to and washed the dishes, cups, and \nsaucers. All joined in, — the Curtis brothers, Dana, \nand all. It was very enchanting ; quite a lark, as \nwe say. Much of the industry went on in that way, \nbecause it combined the freest sociability with the \nuseful arts. \n\n*' The idea of most of us was that, beginning with \nwhat we felt to be a true system, with true relations \nto one another, it would probably grow into some- \nthing larger, and that by bringing in others we \nshould finally succeed in reforming and elevating \nsociety and put it on a basis of universal co-opera- \ntion. Communism it was not, because property was \nrespected. Some were allowed to hold and earn \nmore than others. Only justice was sought for in \nthe matter of labor and in the distribution of any \nsurplus, if there were any, which seldom occurred. \nCapital, labor, and skill each had their fair propor- \ntion in the division; and the same person might \nshare under each of these heads. It gave labor the \nlargest share, five-twelfths; capital, four-twelfths; \nand skill, three-twelfths. By skill is meant the or- \nganizing head to industry. That was the whole of \nour equality. \n\n\" The great point aimed at was to realize prac- \ntical equality and mutual culture, and a common- \nsense education for the children in a larger sense \nthan prevails in ordinary society. The educational \nphase consisted partly in our education of one an- \nother and partly in the school, which was also one \n\n\nBROOK FARM 59 \n\nof the means of support of the community. Pupils \nwere taken from outside, who lived there, and were \ntaught by Mr. and Mrs. Ripley and others. There \nwere some young people who came and lived there \nsimply as boarders, from a certain romantic interest \nin the ideas, but not committing themselves to them \nby membership. \n\n** The social education was extremely pleasant. \nFor instance, in the matter of music, we had ex- \ntremely limited means or talent ; and very little \ncould be done except in a very rudimentary, tenta- \ntive, and experimental way. We had a singing \nclass, and we had some who could sing a song \ngracefully and accompany themselves at the piano. \nWe had some piano music ; and, so far as it was \npossible, care was taken that it should be good, — \nsonatas of Beethoven and Mozart, and music of \nthat order. We sang masses of Haydn and others, \nand no doubt music of a better quality than pre- \nvailed in most society at that date ; but that would \nbe counted nothing now. Occasionally we had \nartists come to visit us. We had delightful read- \nings ; and once in a while, when William Henry \nChanning was in the neighborhood, he would \npreach us a sermon. \n\n\" Hawthorne was there then, but he left at about \nthat time. He knew very little about it as an organ- \nized industrial experiment. But he was pleased to \nlive on a farm, and he liked to drive oxen ; and he \nwould drive until he got himself tired through the \nday, and shut himself up in his room/ in the even- \n\n\n6o JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ning. So it was wholly a mistake that the ' Blithe- \ndale Romance ' describes Brook Farm. There is \nnothing of Brook Farm in it except the scenery. \nNone of the characters represent people at Brook \nFarm. It has been supposed that the heroine was \nMargaret Fuller, but she was never a member. \nShe was only an occasional visitor, a friend of Mr. \nand Mrs. Ripley. She made us delightful visits. \n\n\" We were never more than a hundred, often not \nthat; and we had very little means and a poor \nfarm, nearly two hundred acres, mostly grass and \nwoods, and found it hard to get people enough of \nthe right kind to do what work was required. \nEverybody went into the work heartily, and every- \nbody tried to help every other. There was a great \nsweetness and charm in the sincerity of the life. \n\n\" I do not think Brook Farm was wholly a \ndream. This aspect has been too strongly pre- \nsented. I think it was very practical, for we had \nvery practical and common-sense men and women \namong us. It was a great good to me. Every one \nwho was there will say it was to him, though it is \nextremely hard to tell of it. The truth is, every \nresident there had his own view of it. Every one \nsaw the life through his own eyes and in his own \nway. Naturally, they formed groups ; and one \ngroup was not like another. Certain ones were \njust as individual as in any common society. I felt \nand still think that it was a wholesome life, that it \nwas a good practical education. I have no doubt I \nshould not have been living at this day if it had not \n\n\nBROOK FARM 6i \n\nbeen for the life there, for what I did on the farm \nand among the trees, in handhng the hay and even \nin swinging the scythe. Those who have survived, \nand been active in their experiences, have certainly \nshown themselves persons of power and faculty, \nwith as much common sense, on the average, as or- \ndinary men.\" \n\nAs Dwight has said in these reminiscences, the \nschool was opened almost from the first. Persons \nwho were in sympathy with the purposes of the \ncommunity sent their children, as did others who \nwere intent only on finding the best possible in- \nstruction for their children. The prices were mod- \nerate, the surroundings delightful, the moral at- \nmosphere wholesome ; and it was in a fair \ndegree successful. \n\nDwight directed the musical life of the commu- \nnity. His enthusiasm for the musical art found \nscope for expression at this time. The materials \nhe had at command were not of the best, but he \nmade the most of them. He cultivated a taste for \nthe better kinds of music, talked so enthusiastically \nabout the divine mission of music, and gave so \nmuch time to bringing out the best musical quali- \nties of the members of the community that he \nsucceeded in impressing his own tastes and con- \nvictions upon all around him. His work for music \nhas been described by a member of the commu- \nnity. Miss Amelia Russell, writing in the Atlantic \nMonthly for November, 1878, where she. says that \nhe was \"of a most delicately sensitive organization; \n\n\n62 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nand discords of every kind were as antagonistic to \nhim as were false chords in music. His whole life,\" \nshe says, \"seemed one dream of music; and I do \nnot think that he was ever fully awake to all the \nharsh gratings of this outer world. We were in- \ndebted to him for much of the pleasure of our \nevening social life. He was too really musical to \nendure the weariness of teaching beginners the first \nrudiments of his own art, although for some time \nhe was our only teacher. I must say he was won- \nderfully patient, considering his temperament, in \nthe task he had assumed ; for his nerves must have \nbeen most fearfully taxed in some of his labors, but \nhis outward demeanor did not bear testimony to \nwhat must often have been his earnest desire, — to \ntear his hair out by the roots.\" \n\nIn giving a boy's recollections of life at Brook \nFarm, in the New England Magazine for May, \n1894, Arthur Sumner says that Dwight \"used to \ncome in from his toil in the hot sun at noon to \ngive me a lesson on the piano ; and, after doing that \njob, he would lie down on the lounge and go to \nsleep, while I played to him. What a piece of \nnonsense it was to have a man like that hoeing \ncorn and stiffening his eloquent fingers! But the \nidea was, I think, that all kinds of labor must be \nmade equally honorable, and that the poet, painter, \nand philosopher must take their turn at the plough \nor in the ditch. Mr. Dwight had a quite feminine \nsweetness and delicacy of nature.\" \n\nAnother member of the community has written \n\n\nBROOK FARM 63 \n\nof the time when Dwight joined it, and of his \nearliest efforts to develop a musical interest and \ntaste among the members. \" This winter,\" we are \ntold, \" brought to us a cordial sympathizer and \nearnest laborer, John S. Dwight, and with him all \nsorts of talk about the meaning and use of music, \nand much delicate improvisation. Soon there was \na class of little ones crowding around the gentle, \ngenial master, singing from the first ' Boston School \nSinging Book ' — has there been so sweet a collec- \ntion since ? — and later a larger class who attacked \nthe gems in ' Kingsley's Choir,' and presented Mo- \nzart's Seventh and Twelfth Masses. How mod- \nestly he speaks of the Mass Clubs which sprang up \nabout that time, not only at Brook Farm, but in \nBoston, and of the writing and lecturing on the \ngreat masters, as if he himself had not been the \nsole instigator and unwearied worker, assisted, no \ndoubt, by the articles of Miss Fuller ! First, it was \nnecessary to create a larger want for something \nbetter than the Swiss Bell Ringers and mangled \npsalmody. Then he set himself to work to cause \nto be assembled the talent that would supply, while \nit increased the demand. It will never be known \nby what studied and persistent manipulation a suf- \nficiently large public was brought to believe that \nBeethoven's symphonies and Mozart's masses were \ndivine creations, and as such their performance \nshould be called for by all lovers of fine music.\" \n\nThe reference in the above to Dwight's mention \nof Mass Clubs is to his paper on \" Music as a \n\n\n64 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nMeans of Culture,\" published in the Atlantic \nMonthly for September, 1870. In that essay he \ngave some reminiscences of the Brook Farm pe- \nriod, and especially of the awakening of musical \ninterest at that time. In that awakening he was \nthe chief factor, and it was his own enthusiasm \nwhich kindled to a glow the musical interest of \nothers. The Mass Clubs were the result of his \nwork for music at Brook Farm and in Boston, and \nof his effort to make people acquainted with the \ngreat composers and their productions. His own \nardor and persistence were so great as to arouse in \nothers a like passionate love of music as an art and \na means of true culture. The lecturing on music \nhe mentions was done by himself, for the most \npart; but it fell in with the general intellectual \nmovement of the time. What Emerson was doing \nfor the intellectual life of the time, Parker for its \nreligion, Ripley for its economic life, Dwight was \ndoing for its music, spirituaHzing it, giving it force \nand character in intellectual convictions, and bring- \ning it into close relations with all the higher human \ninterests. \n\n\" It is a fact of some significance,\" Dwight says, \n\" that the interest here felt in Beethoven began at \nthe same moment with the interest in Emerson, \nand notably in the same minds who found such \nquickening in his free and bracing utterance. It \nwas to a great extent the great souls drawn to \n* Transcendentalism ' (as it was nicknamed), to es- \ncape spiritual starvation, who were most drawn also \n\n\nBROOK FARM 65 \n\nto the great, deep music which we began to hear \nat that time. For, be it remembered, the first great \nawakening of the musical instinct here was when \nthe C Minor Symphony of Beethoven was played, \nthirty years ago or more, in that old theatre long \nsince vanished from the heart of the dry-goods \npart of Boston, which has been converted into an \n'Odeon,' where an 'Academy of Music' gave us \nsome first glimpses of the glories of great orches- \ntral music. Some may yet remember how young \nmen and women of the most cultured circles, whom \nthe new intellectual dayspring had made thought- \nful, and at the same time open and impressible to \nall appeals of art and beauty, used to sit there \nthrough the concert in that far-off upper gallery or \nsky-parlor, secluded in the shade, and give them- \nselves up completely to the influence of the sublime \nharmonies that sank to their souls, enlarging and \ncoloring thenceforth the whole horizon of their life. \nThen came the Brook Farm experiment. And it \nis equally a curious fact that music, and of the best \nkind,— the Beethoven sonatas, the masses of Mozart \nand Haydn, — got at, indeed, in a very humble, \nhome-made, and imperfect way, was one of the chief \ninterests and refreshments of those halcyon days. \nNay, it was among the singing portion of those \nplain farmers, teachers, and (but for such cheer) do- \nmestic drudges that the first example sprang up of \nthe so-called ' Mass Clubs,' once so in vogue among \nsmall knots of amateurs. They met to practise \nmusic which to them seemed heavenly, after the \n\n\n66 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nold hackneyed glees and psalm-tunes, though little \nmany of them thought or cared about the creed \nembodied in the Latin words that formed the con- \nvenient vehicle for tones so thrilling. The music \nwas quite innocent of creed, except that of the \nheart and of the common deepest wants and aspira- \ntions of all souls, darkly locked up in formulas, till \nset free by the subtile solvent of the delicious har- \nmonies. And our genial friend, who sits in Har- \nper's 'Easy Chair,' has told the world what parties \nfrom 'the Farm ' — and he was 'one of them ' — would \ncome to town to drink in the symphonies, and then \nwalk back the whole way, seven miles at night, and \nunconscious of fatigue, carrying home with them a \nnew good genius, beautiful and strong, to help \nthem through the next day's labors. Then, too, \nand among the same class of minds — the same \n' Transcendental set ' — began the writing and the \nlecturing on music and its great masters, treating \nit from a high spiritual point of view, and seeking \n(too imaginatively, no doubt) the key and meaning \nto the symphony, but anyhow establishing a vital, \ntrue affinity between the great tone-poems and all \ngreat ideals of the human mind. In the Harbinger^ \nfor years printed at Brook Farm, in the Dial, which \ntold the time of days so far ahead, in the writings \nof Margaret Fuller and others, these became favor- \nite and glowing topics of discourse ; and such dis- \ncussion did at least contribute much to make music \nmore respected, — to lift it in the esteem of thought- \nful persons to a level with the rest of the ' humani- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 67 \n\nties ' of culture, and especially to turn attention to \nthe nobler compositions, and away from that which \nis but idle, sensual, and vulgar. \n\n\" The kind reader will grant plenary indulgence \nto these gossiping memories, and must not for a \nmoment think it is intended by them to claim for \nany one class the exclusive credit of the impulse \ngiven in those days to music. Cecilia had her \nardent friends and votaries among conservatives as \nwell. But is it not significant, as well as curious, \nthat the free-thinking and idealistic class referred \nto — call them ' Transcendental dreamers ' if you \nwill : thev can afford to bear the title now — were so \nlargely engaged in the movement that among the \n' select few ' constant to all opportunities of hear- \ning the great music in its days of small things here \nso many of this class were found ? The ideas of \nthose enthusiasts, if we look around us now, have \nleavened the whole thought and culture of this \npeople, have melted icy creeds, and opened genial \ncommunion between sects, have set the whole \nbreast of the nation heaving, till it has cast off the \nvampire of at least one of its great established \ncrimes and curses, have set all men thinking of the \nelevation of mankind. These are the conquering \nideas ; and with them came in the respect for music, \nwhich now in its way, too, is leavening, refining, hu- \nmanizing, our too crude and swaggering democratic \ncivilization. A short pedigree, but great ideas, by \ntheir transforming power, work centuries of change \nin a few years. \n\n\n68 JOHN SULLIVAN DVVIGHT \n\n*' The great music came in, then, because it was \nin full affinity with the best thoughts stirring in \nfresh, earnest souls. The same unsatisfied, deep \nwant that shrank from the old Puritan creed and \npractice, that sought a positive soul's joy instead of \nabnegation, that yearned for the ''beauty oi holiness,' \nand for communion with the Father in some sin- \ncere way of one's own without profession, that, \nkindled with ideals of a heaven on earth and of a \nreign of love in harmony with nature's beauty and \nthe prophecies of art, found just then and here un- \nwonted comfort, courage, and expression in the \nstrains of the divine composers, of which we were \nthen getting the first visitations. It was as if \nour social globe, charged with the electricity of \nnew divine ideas and longings, — germs of a new \nera, — were beginning to be haunted by auroral \ngleams and flashes of strange melody and harmony. \nYoung souls, resolved to keep their youth, and \nbe true to themselves, felt a mysterious attraction \nto all this, though without culture musically. Per- \nsons not technically musical at all would feel the \nmusic as they felt the rhythm of the ocean rolling \nin upon the beach. ' They understood as little of \nthe laws of the one as of the other fascinating and \nprophetic mystery. Beethoven, above all, struck \nthe key-note of the age. In his deep music, so pro- \nfoundly human, one heard, as in a sea-shell, the \nmurmur of the grander future. Beethoven, Handel, \nMozart, found no more eager audience than among \nthese ' disciples of the newness ' (as some sneeringly \n\n\nBROOK FARM 69 \n\ncalled them), these believing ones, who would not \nhave belief imposed upon them, who cared more for \nlife than doctrine, and to whom it was a prime \nnecessity of heart and soul to make life genial. \nThis was to them ' music of the future,' in a more \ndeep and real sense than any Wagner of these \nlater times has been inspired to write.\" \n\nFor a time, at least, Dwight gave himself up with \nenthusiasm to the new life around him, and to its \nabsorbing interests. His pleasure in the idyllic side \nof the life he was living is well expressed in a note \nto Lowell, written about seven months after he had \ntaken up his residence at Brook Farm. \" May I not \nhope to see you at Brook Farm in this fine sea- \nson ? \" he asks. \" I should delight to have you long \nenough to conduct you about our wood and river \nwalks, or take you out in our boat, when we might \ndiscuss matters human and divine, or, better yet, \ndeliver ourselves up to the water-sprites and to our \nown wayward fancies, whether of noisy talk or \nsilent reverie, like Nature's happy children. I have \nforgotten how to write or think or picture out a \nscene or thought in words. I only feel. Perhaps \nyou will bring a sprig or two from the poetic plants \nwhich have been springing up under your still fos- \ntering hand this summer. When are we to have \n\nthe book ? \" \n\nHe had not wholly dropped his pen, however; \nand an article on \" Griswold and American poetry \" \nwent to the Christian Examiner 2X this time. In \nthe autumn Henry T. Tuckerman asked him to \n\n\n;o JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ncontribute translations from his favorite German \npoets to the Boslon Miscellany. At the same time \nLowell was writing to him in behalf of his own vent- \nure, the Pio7ieer, Lowell's letter indicates fairly \nwell the position which Dwight had gained as a \nliterary worker and as a musical critic : — \n\n\" My dear Friend, — On the ist of next January a \nmagazine will be started in Boston, of which I am \nto be the editor. It is to be a free magazine, and \nis to take as high an aim in art as may be. I wish \nto notice every branch of art, and do it in an artis- \ntic way. To this end I wish to get those who \nknow something to write for me in its several de- \npartments. I shall give them carte blanche as to \nwhat they say, not wishing to cut the opinions of \nthose who know more than I do of the subjects on \nwhich they write down to my own level. \n\n\" If you are willing, I should like to have the \nmusical criticism under your charge. At first I \nshall not be able to pay as much as I wish. But I \nwill give at the least $\\o for every article of three \npages or more, and $2 a page for less. The possi- \nbility of raising our people's taste in this divine \nmatter must be a part of your reward at first. If \nthe magazine succeeds, I shall be able and glad to \npay you as you deserve. \n\n\" If you come into Boston, will you come and see \nme, that we may talk it over? If you cannot, will \nyou write to that effect.'^ Yours in love and \n\n^^P^' J. R. Lowell.\" \n\n\nBROOK FARM ;i \n\nA fortnight later Dwight wrote : \" Not finding \nyou in, I take the liberty of sitting down in your \noffice to reply to yours of a fortnight since. I was \nhoping to see you in Boston before this, or I \nshould have written. Your project pleases me ex- \nceedingly. I have only time to say that it will give \nme pleasure to be connected with it in any way \nin which I may further its success. It would be a \ngreat pleasure to me to have a corner in which I \nmay freely whisper from time to time what I have \nto say on Musical Art ; and in these hard times I \nshall be glad of any additional resources, however \nsmall, to eke out what is exceedingly small. \n\n\" I shall try to call this afternoon, if peradvent- \nure I may find you in your ofiice, and hear you \nexpose the noble project further. Meanwhile I \nrejoice to find you grown so Pan-theistic, since in \nthat I can subscribe myself your sympathizer and \nwell-wisher.\" \n\n\" I intended fully to have seen you on Sunday,\" \nLowell wrote a week later, \" but found myself so \nhappy at Frank Shaw's that I had not the heart to \ngo away. It is truly a gladness to me that you are \nwilling to write my musical criticisms for me, for I \ndo not know any one who can do it so well. \n\n\" Can you write something about the symphony \nwhich the Academy are to ' bring out ' this winter ? \nSay three or four or five pages of the size of the \nBoston Miscellany, Three of your MS. pages will \nprobably fill a printed page of that size. When I \nspecify the length, I do not wish you to curb your- \n\n\n72 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nself: if it should be longer, never mind. I should \nalso like to have a notice of Bohrer, if you have \nheard him, to go in fine print among the notices \nof the month. Any essay on music that you are \nprompted to write, I shall be glad to print and pay \nfor. I should like to see you when you are in Bos- \nton, but am generally out of town Saturday after- \nnoons. Always your friend.\" \n\nDwight did write on the Academy of Music \nand other subjects, but the Pioneer was short-lived. \nIn 1843 he contributed to the Democratic Review \narticles on Haydn, Handel, and Mozart; and he \nwrote on other subjects for the same periodical. \nWhen Mrs. Eliza Lee was translating from Rich- \nter and publishing his biography, Dwight lent her \nvaluable assistance. \" I regret exceedingly,\" she \nwrote him, \" that I could not have had the benefit \nof your revision of my book at an earlier period ; \nfor I feel that your correction of the translation has \nbeen a benefit which nothing can repay.\" \n\nThe interest in Dwight's lectures on music led \nto a desire for their publication on the part of his \nfriends. What that interest was is hinted at in a \nnote sent him by Margaret Fuller, who wrote : — \n\n''My dear Mr. Dwight, — I enclose the sum I \nvainly attempted to rob from the musical public \nunder cloak of your reputation. I shall not be able \nto hear your lecture, as it is the last evening my \nsister Fanny passes with us before a separation like \nto be a long one, but trust you will give your audi- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 73 \n\nence as much pleasure as you did last time. The \nexpressions of obligation that I heard were numer- \nous. If there is a concert or rehearsal at the \nOdeon on Saturday evening, will it be convenient \nfor you to escort Caroline and myself ? With re- \ngard. S. M. Fuller.\" \n\nThe desire to see his lectures put into a vol- \nume was voiced by Ellis Gray Loring, who wrote \nDwight in August, 1842: \"I have had true satis- \nfaction in reading the lectures on Handel and \nMozart, and doubt not they will realize for me \nwhat must be your chief purpose; that is, that \nyour readers shall always hereafter enjoy and ap- \npreciate better the compositions of those mas- \nters. I wish your various writings on music \nmight be collected and published. I think they \nwould make, in every sense, a successful work.\" \nThe same wish was expressed in a letter from \nGeorge W. Curtis, written in January, 1844, who \nsaid: \"When Charles Dana came running to me \nwith what he thought Emerson's poem, how could \nI help saying. It is mine? In that case, at least, \nit w^as sympathy for Emerson's reputation that \nprompted the speech. There is something that \npleases me much in the united works of young \nauthors. Imagine the united literary works of \nDwight and Curtis rotting in an odd drawer of \nTicknor's or James Munroe's ; could we ever look \neach other in the face again ? What a perpetual \nsuspicion there would be that the one swamped the \n\n\n74 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nother ! Do you not mean some day to gather your \nmusical essays together, and suffer them to expand \ninto a book? though not with the cream-colored \ncalyx that Ticknor affects, I beg. Nay, might you \nnot make some arrangement with Greeley to pub- \nlish them here in a cheap way, if you would make \nmoney? for those who valued them would, of \ncourse, obtain more desirable copies. If not, and \nyou would think dignity compromised, some of \nthe regular publishers might be diplomatized with. \nThey would make a unique work. You know we \nhave nothing similar in American literature, no \nbook of artistic criticism, have we ? Why will you \nnot think of it, if you have not done so? and, \n*what so poor a man as Hamlet is may do, you \nshall command.' \" \n\nIn 1845 there was correspondence with a New \nYork publisher about a \" History of Music,\" and \nencouragement was given; but the book was not \ncompleted. At the same time Dwight proposed \nthe plan of putting his Dial essays into a book; \nand the publisher wrote: \"I have read a part of \nthe ' Ideals of Every-day Life ' with more care since \nwriting you, and am highly pleased with it, so \nmuch so that, if you will let me have it after you \nshall have enlarged it enough to make fifty or \nseventy-five printed pages of a 12 mo, I will add a \nfew choice things, and publish it. I should not ex- \npect to make anything on it, but would just make \nit pay for itself by paying you a reasonable com- \npensation. The chief object would be to dissemi- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 75 \n\nnate the pure principles which those sermons incul- \ncate, and to make known your name as a writer \nthrough the large list of the press which is now on \nour exchange list from every State in the Union. \nI should give away three hundred copies, at least. \nWill you not let me have it at a small compen- \nsation?\" This scheme also fell through, probably \nbecause of more urgent interests demanding atten- \ntion at Brook Farm. \n\nHis enthusiastic interest in music Dwight ex- \npressed in a letter written on Christmas Day, 1843. \nIt also gives hint of his feeling of deprivation in \nbeing shut out from opportunities to cultivate \nmusic as he desired. The cordial, friendly, and \neven enthusiastic letters of Mrs. Child were full of \nspirit and courage; and especially was her delight \nin Ole Bull of a most exuberant nature. \n\n''My dear Friend Mrs. Child, — All things con- \nspire to make me write to you. It is Christmas night. \nMr. Benzon is here to remind me of you (though I \nneed no reminding), and to take my letter; and, \nabove all, you have spoken to me irresistibly in \nthat splendid letter to the Courier about 'Ole \nBulbuL' This last, I believe, I must thank for \neffectually breaking the spell of my strange, un- \npardonable,— to myself even, — inexplicable silence. \nI will no longer respond only in silent feeling, but \nin visible tokens, in words ; for therein you speak \nlike my other self, therein you speak to me, — not \nfor the first time, surely. Have I not for two whole \n\n\nye JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nyears been receiving the kindest and sweetest \nrecognitions from you, and, like a selfish dog, \nhoarded them up in silence, answering not a word ? \nVerily, you have heaped coals of fire upon my head. \nFirst, that noble, soul-stirring appeal in behalf of \nMrs. Colt, which I did not answer because the re- \nsult went against my heart ; then message after \nmessage of kindest sympathy and remembrance, \nwhich have been to me among my great encourage- \nments in a life of perplexity and loneliness ; then \nyour beautiful, your most cheering and inspiring \nbook, — a book which I prize and reperuse with \ndouble fondness, for the golden sunshine in it and \nfor associations with the author and the giver; \nand now, finally, this outpouring of your true soul \nabout music, which no one should respond to more \npromptly or fervently than myself. \n\n*' How shall I ever repay you for all my debt } \nIf thoughts and feelings answering to yours, and \nhaving a most conscious reference to you, — thoughts \nby you suggested and suggesting you, — were letters, \nI should have written to you every day in the year. \nAlas ! I hope my friends know expression with me \nis no measure of regard. You certainly will bear \nme out in saying it is never too late to repent. \nAnd this is the holy, happy Christmas, — a good \ntime to shuffle off the coil of old indolent habit, and \nto present myself before you in the clean robes of \nnew and good intentions. You will not give me \nup for hopeless. I hereby rebuke, renounce, and \ncast out from myself the dumb spirit. If he has \n\n\n■v \n\n\nBROOK FARM 77 \n\noccupied so long as to have somewhat weakened \nmy original faculty of speech, and made me slow \nand awkward at concocting a letter (for my dumb- \nness has been to all my friends, not to you alone), \nthis, too, you will pardon, and accept a first lame \neffort encouragingly. \n\n\" I shall not rest until I hear your Bulbul. They \ntell me that in him is the living presence of com- \nmanding genius in music; and that is what I have \nhardly, perhaps never, met. I have divined, recog- \nnized (through a glass darkly), genius in the works \nof great composers through the imperfect medium \nof uninspired performers, or through my own poor \nefforts to study myself into their meaning by slow \nand painful transfer of the printed notes to the keys \nof my piano. I have been charmed, transported, \nrobbed of my sleep, and haunted for days by the \nwonderful performances of violinists and pianists. \n\n\" But I do not feel quite sure that music has yet \nspoken to me through one of her appointed organs,, \nthrough one of her chosen sons, in the person of \na performer. And yet I have heard something so \nnear to inspiration that I require the presence of \nOle Bull to show me whether it was not that. \n\n\" During the last week my sleep was broken, and \nall my habitual scenes and functions made stale \nand wearisome and obsolete, as it seemed to me, \nby hearing, not indeed a Persian nightingale, but a \nsomething between a canary bird and a thrush. I \nmean Vieuxtemps. He is the perfection of art, if \nnothing more ; and he must be more, to be that. \n\n\n78 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nOf his tones, what you say of Bulbul's would not \nbe an exaggerated description. Sometimes there \nwas nothing earthly in them. They were like \nspirit disembodied : they did not contradict or limit \nmy soul, as all things material or finite do, as all \nthings must do which have not perfect beauty. My \nsoul was free with them. Like the stars and the \ntints of the sky at all hours, I enjoyed them with \nan entire surrender of myself and with a sweet re- \nsponse. Then they were wild, nervous, and elec- \ntrifying. Indeed, the bold certainty, bold yet calm, \nthe sudden flashing energy with which he always \nattacked a theme, was a perpetual surprise and \na perpetual conquest. The melody was certainly \nnew-born under his hands: there was no possibil- \nity of its becoming old or wearisome. The nature \nof the instrument, too, its appetizing harshness, its ^^ \nracy, sharp violinity, came honestly out, more elo- \nquent and musical than if it were all sweet. His \ncompositions, not very profound or impassioned, \nwere beautiful, were original. This made it seem \ncold and only artistical to many. But there was a \nuniform subdued sensibility and a quiet earnest- \nness in his whole air that would not let me believe \nhim without a soul. He moved my soul. Could \nhe have done it unless he had played from at least \nan equal depth ? Could he have caused me to feel \nif he did not feel himself } He was born for the \nviolin, I know. A youth of twenty-three, he has \nexhausted its known powers. The most expe- \nrienced critics cannot discover a want in his per- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 79 \n\nformance. Perhaps you think, if the critics cannot, \nthe simple hearts can. Well, he delighted me with \nthe peculiar delight of finding something perfect in \nthe outward. Modest and unconscious, not thrust- \ning himself between his music and you, he seemed \nto be the artist in a high and holy sense, to be filled \nwith the true idea and sentiment of art, to lose \nhimself in exercising an infallible mastery over his \ninstrument. But not an infallible mastery over \nthis most wonderful, most common instrument, this \nhuman heart? He certainly has not conquered \nthe multitude like Ole Bull. Perhaps, though a \ntrue artist, he yet lacks genius. If he has it, it is \nnot. of the popular recognizable sort. One thing \nwas most wonderful to think of afterwards, — that \nhis art, so admirable, so inspiring, seemed at the \nmoment nothing strange or difficult, nothing but the \nsimplest, — no more marvellous than daylight, but \nyet as marvellous, as hard to explain or analyze. I \nsay he is between a canary and a thrush, because \nhe is such a polished singer on the one hand, and \nyet, so far from being a tame one, he has plenty of \n'gism.' He laughs and mocks like the thrush. \nHe is wild and wood-like and mysterious and inimi- \ntable like him. \n\n\" Wednesday, 2p/i. — I am just from the Fourier \nconvention, where I spend day and night. It is \nintensely interesting, probably the only great au- \ndience in this world where most exciting contro- \nversy could be carried on in a perfectly sweet spirit \non both sides. How much of this is owing to the \n\n\n/ \n\n\n8o JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n* spirit that moves over the face of the troubled \nwaters ' when William Channing's voice is raised ! \nBut I cannot tell you of it in this. Here I feel \nwith new force the divine significance of music. \nYou have said the truest thing ever said about it \nwhen you called music the 'soprano, or feminine, \nprinciple of the universe,' the principle of all things, \netc. That music is so becoming recognized as the \nart of arts, the soul of them all, at the very same \ntime when the law of social harmonies is being an- \nnounced, is a fact not without significance. Were \nit not worth while to give a life to develop the \nanalogy ? \" \n\nIn October of the next year Mrs. Child wrote, \nurging Dwight to prepare an article on Ole Bull \nfor the Democratic Review, and offering to secure .^ \nhim free admission to the great violinist's concerts ^ \nif he would do so. Dwight promptly replied ; but \nthe first part of the letter, which touched upon \npersonal experiences and sorrows, was cut away \nand destroyed by Mrs. Child. In a fragment of it \nwhich remains, he says : \" The truth is, my friend, \nI am oppressed with sadness. I have had heavy \nsorrows to bear in these later times which have \nquite checked the elasticity that seeks expression.\" \nThe part of the letter touching upon music and \nOle Bull explains why Dwight did not give more \ntime to literary pursuits, and is as follows : — \n\n\" Now as to Ole Bull. I heard him twice last \nwinter. Excepting only a symphony of Beethoven \nor a mass of Mozart, nothing ever filled me with \n\n\nBROOK FARM 8i \n\nsuch deep, solemn joy. I had spoken warmly of \nVieuxtemps, and still he is very beautiful in my \nmemory. The popular award of ' artistical perfec- \ntion ' to Vieuxtemps and ' genius ' to Ole Bull is \nnot quite just to the former. I felt in him more \nthan he gave me to hear. I do not believe that he \nhas exhausted himself yet. But Ole Bull is un- \ndoubtedly the stronger and greater man. I should \ndoubt if he were the more simple of the two. He \nis certainly the most original, the most never-failing \nand commanding. He does inspire as the other \ncannot. The most glorious sensation I ever had \nwas to sit in one of his audiences, and to feel that \nall were elevated to the same pitch with myself, that \nthe spirit in every breast had risen to the same \nlevel. My impulse was to speak to any one and \nto every one as to an intimate friend. The most \nindifferent person was a man — a living soul — to \nme. The most remote and proud I did not fear \nnor despise. In that moment they were acces- \nsible,— nay, more, worth reaching. This certainly \nwas the highest testimony to his great art, to his \ngreat soul. \n\n\" Frederic Rackemann, the pianist, who has him- \nself the fire of genius, was intimate with him. He \nwould speak, by turns, of Bull and of Vieuxtemps as \nthe greatest, and that, apparently, with the most \nentire unconsciousness of any inconsistency. Yet \nI judge that his sympathy was more with Bull. \nOnce he said that ' Vieuxtemps was altogether the \ngreater artist'; but, on being pressed, he said that \n\n\n82 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nOle Bull could do all that he could, with a little \nstudy, and a great deal more. It was plain where \nhis enthusiasm shone forth. \n\n\" I should really delight to do the thing you pro- \npose, were I only sure of one thing, — my ability. I \nhave, to be sure, very, very little time, my musical \nand literary life being almost indefinitely post- \nponed. But I would contrive to steal time. Let \nme say that I will expose myself to the temptation \nof doing it, but I will not promise. Hear him \nmore, I certainly should ; and your kind sugges- \ntion about the pecuniary facilities would be highly \nacceptable, — nay, indispensable ; for now that I am \nso lost to intellectual society in Boston, so identi- \nfied with a despised sect, and so absorbed here \nas to lose the run of musical acquaintances, free V \ntickets are not at my command, as they once were. \nOne thing more : I want to know Ole Bull ; yet in \nmy obscurity I cannot seek him out, surrounded as \nhe is always by a brilliant crowd. Is it not possi- \nble that the frankness and originality of our com- \nmunity life might interest him enough to warrant \nhis riding out to Brook Farm ? Mr. Chickering \nor Schmidt would gladly show him the way. Were \nI in the city, I certainly should know him. I \ncannot answer your question about counterpoint. \nWith warmest acknowledgments to Mr. Hopper, I \nam sincerely and gratefully your friend, \n\n\"J. S. DwiGHT.\" \n\n\nBROOK FARM 83 \n\nBrook Farm has been subjected to much of \ncriticism, and to not a little of amusing comment. \nThat it should have been the subject of banter and \nsarcasm is not in the least strange, especially as it \nwas viewed by those who were not in sympathy \nwith its purposes. It has also suffered from the \nreminiscences of its own members, who have treated \nit as one would a youthful escapade, while they \ncommented freely on the serious purposes of its \nolder and more responsible leaders. Though it has \nbeen written of often as if it were a holiday picnic, \nyet it did not wear such an aspect to those who \nwere responsible for its policy and its success. \n\nDwight, not less than Ripley, believed in Brook \nFarm, and devoted to it the whole of his capacities \nwhile it continued in existence. He belonged to \nthe inner circle of its leaders, helped to shape its \npolicy, and felt the responsibility of its success or \nfailure resting upon him personally. While he was \none of the leaders in the social life of the com- \nmunity, he was also a wise counsellor in the admin- \nistrative management. Not a fluent speaker, and \nrestrained by his diffidence from public utterance, \nhis voice was often heard In the meetings of the \ncommunity when visitors were to be welcomed or \nthe general interests discussed. During the period \nwhen the teachings of Fourier were under consider- \nation and the policy of the community was being \nreshaped, he was one of the most practical in sug- \ngestion and fertile In plans and wise in counsel of \nany of the leaders. No one else, not even Ripley, \n\n\n84 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nwas superior to him in the work of distinctly shap- \ning the future plans of the community. \n\nIt may be frankly said, however, that Dwight had \nno financial skill, and that his administrative gifts \nwere limited; but he had in him a deep, strong, \npractical common sense, a capacity for touching life \non the side of its every-day interests, and he greatly \nadmired men of common sense and executive \npower. While of a most refined and sensitive \norganization himself, delicately alive to every aes- \nthetic interest, and of exquisite tastes, he was no \ndilettante, and in no sense over-refined or finical. \nHe mingled freely with the people of the Farm, \nkeenly sympathized with the toils and deprivations \nof workingmen, and was eager to do what he could \nto improve the condition of those hard beset in \nthe struggles of life. He had no inclination to de- \nspise those who were not cultured, but freely appre- \nciated the genuine gifts of all persons. He loved \ngenuineness and thoroughness wherever they were \nfound, and he exercised a large and wholesome in- \nfluence in putting these virtues into the working \npolicy of Brook Farm. \n\nFar too much emphasis has been laid on the \nsocial side of Brook Farm by those who have \nwritten about it ; but, in fact, at all the meetings of \nthe community — even little tea parties — the talk \nwas likely to run on high and serious themes. \nDuring the first two or three years it is true that \nthe social interest was a prominent feature, and \nmuch time was given to amusements and entertain- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 85 \n\nments of all kinds. As those who have written of \nthe life at the Farm were nearly all quite young at \nthis time, it is very natural they should have given \nmost attention to describing what to them was \nthen the interest which left the deepest impres- \nsion. The life was never sombre or lugubrious, \nbut always bright and sympathetic, a wise freedom \nbeing allowed to all. Yet it is true that a thought- \nful and earnest spirit pervaded the whole life of the \npeople. Serious subjects were discussed more than \nis usual elsewhere, and a tone of culture and refine- \nment made itself felt on every hand. \n\nA hint of what the social life was at Brook Farm \nmay be gained from a letter written Jan. 27, 1845, \ndescribing a little coffee party planned by Amelia \nRussell, and attended by Mr. and Mrs. Ripley, \nCharles and Maria Dana, Albert Brisbane, John \nOrvis, John, Marianne, and Frances Dwight, Os- \nborne, Eunice, and Fanny Macdaniel, Sarah White- \nhouse, and Frederic Cabot : \" Coffee was handed \nround, a few puns perpetrated. Meanwhile a holy \naspiration from high heaven was stealing quietly \nand unseen over the souls of all present. Mr. Rip- \nley proposed for a toast Albert Brisbane, the first \napostle of Fourierism^ and made some interesting \nand rather humorous remarks about the great assist- \nance he had afforded us in the convention and in \nthe framing of the new constitution. Mr. Brisbane \ndisclaimed it all, grew eloquent in reply, spoke of \nBrook Farm society and the friendship he had en- \njoyed here, the pleasure of receiving many kind \n\n\nS6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\noffices at the hand of friendship, etc. I cannot at- \ntempt to repeat the toasts that were given, they \nwere so numerous and all good, nor the excellent \nremarks that were made by Ripley, Dana, Bris- \nbane, and Dwight. Suffice it to say that I never \nheard either of them speak better. It was all \nbeauty and inspiration. There was true humor, elo- \nquence, elegance, deep earnestness, and sacred so- \nlemnity. After those present were toasted, beau- \ntiful tributes were paid to the absent. Fourier; \nWilliam H. Channing, the priest and poet of asso- \nciation; Greeley; and other New York friends, — \nwere remembered, and each toast prefaced by inter- \nesting remarks. Charles Dana proposed his friend, \nParke Godwin, spoke of him with deep feeling and \nall the earnestness of affection, and, just as he was \nconcluding, Fred added, * God wins always in the \nend.' So appropriate and good a pun was univer- \nsally applauded. We set it down for Fred's best, \nbut afterwards found that he also was encircled \nwith a heavenly halo, and everything he did that \nevening was his best. \n\n\" As the speeches became higher and holier and \nmore beautiful, and the broadest principles were \nuttered from golden lips, and our emotions grew \nmore elevated and solemn, Charles Dana spoke of a \nmeeting in New York where they all joined hands, \nand pledged themselves to the cause of association ; \nand he called upon us warmly and fervently to do \nthe same. With one impulse we all arose, and \nformed a circle around the little table ; and, hand \n\n\nbrook: farm S; \n\nin hand, we vowed ' truth to the cause of God and \nhumanity.' It was a solemn moment, never, never \nto be forgotten. Then our circle of friendship was \ntoasted. What beautiful allusions Dwight made \nto our circle, and to circles within circles, that it \nwas not exclusive, but that endless circles might \nbe drawn around it, all having the same centre ! \nMr. Ripley wished, very humorously, that our Pha- \nlanx might grow till we could join hands around \nPalmer's woods, around Cora Island, across the \nriver. Mr. Brisbane would have the circle sur- \nround the globe. Then Mr. Brisbane, after Mr. \nRipley had been speaking of circles, said he had \nomitted the ellipse, — the emblem of love centred \nin two foci, — and made beautiful remarks upon \nthat. Dwight made a good pun, saying Mr. Bris- \nbane had supplied the ellipse — or omission — in \nMr. Ripley's speech. Dwight toasted the coffee-pot \nin this wise : ' Our patient friend, the coffee-pot, — \nthoup-h drained of its contents, it has not lost its \npatience: if it is not spiritual, it certainly is not \nmaterial (is immaterial).' Mr. Ripley jumped a \nfoot and turned directly round at so good a pun. \nFred gave a toast with no little wit and humor: \n'John Allen, — may his wisdom grow to his love.' \nImmense applause. Dwight gave a beautiful toast \nto the memory of the dead, — the dead moon, and \nall the events in the dead past which have led us \non to possess any real life. I wish I could remem- \nber every word, it was so poetical and beautiful. \nAllusion had been made to Mr. Orvis as Orpheus, \n\n\n8S JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nDwight ending with saying, ' God bless the sun, \nand also Orpheus : God bless the moon, and also \nMorpheus.' Mr. Ripley made quite a long and hu- \nmorous speech upon a glass of punch — quintescent \npunch — which he drank at a New York meeting, \nand which roused a dull company into great activ- \nity, since it was so exquisitely compounded that, if \nit had made a man quite drunk, it would not have \ninjured his intellect. This called\" out two puns. \nDwight asked if the party was a Punch and Judy \nspree (jeu (T esprit) ; and Fred said that it seemed \nonly necessary to punch Mr. Ripley to get a good \nspeech from him. In the early part of the evening \nMr. Brisbane alluded beautifully to Dwight, calling \nhim the fringe in the great associative movement, \nnot a common fake, civilized fringe, but one that \nwas centred deep in inward principles, and mani- \nfested itself outwardly in various forms of beauty, \nlike the odor and color of flowers. Very beautiful \nwere his words, but my memory fails. So it ended \nat twelve o'clock ; and we separated to pass a sleep- \nless night in the company of solemn, pleasing, and \nexciting thoughts. You must imagine a great deal \nI have described so poorly ! Our entertainment \nwas one of a regular series, ascending gradually \nfrom a few jokes to the highest spiritual emotions, \nand then gradually descending again.\" \n\nAll this was sentimental and somewhat extrava- \ngant, but it shows the enthusiasm of youth. An \nenthusiasm like this, however aroused, has a real \nmeaning, and shows soundness of life in that which \n\n\nBROOK FARM 89 \n\nproduces it. There was something here to bind \nthese men and women together In closest ties of \nfidelity to an idea. \n\nIn religion the greatest freedom existed. Very \nlittle of formal piety showed Itself, and the attitude \nof the leaders was one that was radical almost to an \nextreme. In an unconventional and Informal way, \nreligion was a powerful influence throughout the \nlife of the community ; and a strong religious feel- \ning and conviction existed. Though Ripley and \nDwight had left the church, and many of the others \ndid not attend church services regularly, yet there \nwas a truly religious spirit in the community and a \ndeep devotional feeling. It took the form of a \nstrong desire for social justice, and was a pervasive \nInfluence in this direction among the more thought- \nful and intelligent. When William Henry Chan- \nnlng spent a Sunday at Brook Farm, he preached \nto the people, and with great effect. He was the \noracle and religious guide of the community, its \nconfessor and saint. He had a wonderful gift for \nplanting in the minds of the impressionable the \nseeds of devotion and consecration to high ideas \nand ideals. In this way he exerted a powerful in- \nfluence over the minds of all the younger members \nof the community. \n\nDwight lived in the Eyrie, the first house \nbuilt by the community, and so named because it \nwas located on a rock, — the highest point on the \nFarm. Here he had the Ripleys for house neigh- \nbors, here the library was located, and here, also, \n\n\n/ \n\n\n90 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nthe classes met their teachers. In this house the \nmore intelligent members of the community met \nfor recreation and discussion in the evenings, and \nwithin it the musical culture of the community was \ndeveloped in personal study or in club training. \n\nAfter he had been at the Farm for some time, \nDwight was joined by his parents and sisters, who \nremained members until the end came. On Christ- \nmas Eve, 1846, his sister Marianne was married to \nJohn Orvis. Marianne Dwight had been an assist- \nant and then a preceptress in Mr. Bailey's \" High \nSchool for Young Ladies \" in Boston. She was \nthe teacher of drawing at Brook Farm, and ai: \nassistant in Latin. Frances Dwight was as much \na lover of music as her brother, shared in his study \nof it at this time, and assisted him in teaching it to \nthe children. \n\nAt the end of 1844 a change began at Brook \nFarm in the agitation about the teachings of \nFourier. His chief apostle in this country was \nAlbert Brisbane, and a visit of his to Brook Farm \nis described in a letter written by one of Dwight's \nsisters, Dec. 22, 1844: — \n\n\" Brisbane arrived last evening. This morning \nwe assembled at half-past ten to hear what he had \nto say. He promised us for the forenoon merely \nthe history of his travels in Europe ; but it was \nmingled with so much philosophy, his views were \nso broad and deep, his language so eloquent and \nforcible, that we could not but feel gratified and \ninstructed. What he said of nationalities was very \n\n\nBROOK FARM 91 \n\nfine, — that in each nation we see a predominating \nsentiment, which characterizes it throughout. In \nEngland familism is predominant. This marks \nthe EngHsh landscape, dotting it with cottages and \nmanor houses. This pervades the industry of the \nnation, in which the useful always predominates. \nIn France cabalism is the ruling sentiment. Social \nfeeling, love of variety, amusements, etc., mark the \npeople. In all their manufactures they have the \nelegant in view. The destiny of France has been \nto break down the feudal spirit of the Middle Ages, \nto destroy Catholicism and aristocracy. He gave \na fine picture of the history of France up to her \npresent speculative time, and asserted that only in \nthat country, amidst such a people, could such a \ngenius as Fourier have been born. \n\n*' This afternoon Mr. Brisbane spoke on the pros- \npects of association in France, which he considers \nrather miserable and hopeless. Here is the field, \nand here at Brook Farm m.ust the efforts of all \nbe concentrated. Probably Mr. Brisbane will come \nand live with us. But I have no time to tell you \nanything that was planned and devised for this next \nyear's operations. It is hopeful, is it not, that we \nhave this first year a dividend of profits amounting \nto $1,445? \n\n\" Our sister associate, M. A. Williams, was this \nmorning released from her severe sufferings by \ndeath, — the first death that has occurred here. \nA beautiful grove of cypress-trees back of our \nhouse has been selected for her grave. She has \n\n\n92 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nbeen taken care of in the best and kindest manner, \nand received universal sympathy. Nowhere else \ncould this poor woman, who has no near relatives \nand no property, have fared so well. Here is one \nof the pleasantest blessings of association.\" \n\nThe same person gave an account of a visit of \nRobert Owen to Brook Farm, and her letter opens \nup an interesting view of the inside life of the com- \nmunity:— \n\n'* To-day I have wished for you to enjoy with us \na most delightful visit from Robert Owen. Never \nwas I so agreeably disappointed in any one. The \nold man has a beautiful spirit of infinite benevo- \nlence. I really love and reverence him. He is \nseventy-four, full of energy and activity, very cour- \nteous, attends carefully to every little etiquette, pats \nthe children on the head, and has a smile and a \npleasant word for all. Last evening he gave us \na lecture on socialism, and another to-day. I am \nastonished at his views, — to find that we differ much \nin speculations and in details, — yet we have one \nand the same object, and can meet on a common \nground. After his lecture he gave us an account \nof his experiment at New Lanark, which he carried \non with two thousand persons for thirty years, and \nthen left in the care of others. These persons \nwere of the very dregs of society, when he took \nthem. Now they are mentioned in statistics as \nbeing the most moral population of Great Britain. \nThe whole story was very interesting. So was his \naccount of the Rapp community. I have always \n\n\nX \n\n\nBROOK FARM \n\n\n93 \n\n\nassociated his name with New Harmony, but he \nsays this was conducted by people who understood \nnot his principles. \n\n\" After he had finished, Mr. Ripley rose, and paid \nhim a very handsome tribute, inviting him to be \nwith us whenever he could, and expressing our \nsense of the honor we felt he had conferred upon \nus, proposed Robert Owen as a sentiment, wishing \nhe might always enjoy in his own mind that sub- \nlime happiness that will one day be the portion of \nthe human race. Owen expressed himself as much \npleased with our experiment, and wondered at our \nsuccess. He is going to England, to return here \nin September. He has taken the common sense \npath to association. I wish I could see you, to tell \nyou more of this interesting forenoon.\" \n\nIn December, 1843, a large convention was held \nin Boston of the friends of association. The com- \nmunities at Hopedale, Northampton, Skaneateles, \nand others were represented. Rev. Adin Ballou \nspoke for Christian communism, Charles A. Dana \nadvocated the Brook Farm type of social co-opera- \ntion, and Brisbane strongly urged the claims of \nFourierism. Among the speakers were Ripley, \nGreeley, William H. Channing, and several others. \nSo great was the interest of the meeting that it \ncontinued into the first week of 1844, and all the \nsessions were crowded wuth eager listeners. The \nobject of the meeting was a free interchange of \nviews on the part of associationists, communists, \nsocialists, and other advocates of a social reforma- \n\n\n94 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ntion. The desire was to find some common basis \nof action in furtherance of social reform. Ripley \nand Channing were, at first, very reluctant to ac- \ncept the teachings of Fourier, which were advocated \nwith great eloquence and persistency by Brisbane. \nGradually, however, they were won over to a more \nfavorable consideration of the methods for organiz- \ning industry which had been developed by Fourier \nin his writings. \n\nDuring the year 1844 the Fourierite theory of \norganized industrial life was put into practice at \nBrook Farm, so far as it was possible to do so with \nits limited numbers and resources. From this time \non Dwight became much more active in his interest \nin the community, and more thoroughly identified \nhimself with the spirit of social reform which it \nexemplified. The change in Brook Farm began, in \nfact, early in 1844, partly as the result of the discus- \nsions then going on and partly as the result of news- \npaper attacks. The New York Herald made such \nan onslaught on Brook Farm at this time that pupils \nand boarders withdrew on account of it, and the \nquestion of income had to be seriously considered. \nAn effort was now made to increase the productive- \nness of the farm and to enlarge the number of pay- \ning industries. Two letters of this time will give \nglimpses into the efforts which were making to \nadjust the life of the community to the new condi- \ntions : — \n\n\" I belong to a group,\" wrote one of D wight's \nsisters, *'for making fancy articles for sale in \n\n\nBROOK FARM 95 \n\nBoston. We have been very busy at it of late, and \nAmelia Russell and I are very much amused at the \nidea of our having turned milliners and makers of \ncap-tabs. Our manufacture is quite workmanlike, \nI assure you. We realize considerable money ( \\ ) \nfrom this, and hope, women though we are, to have \nby and by the credit of doing some productive \nlabor. We are now having frequent teachers' meet- \nings to improve our educational practice, and ap- \nproximate it to our plan. In all this I feel a deep \ninterest.\" \n\n\" A chosen body of our people are exceedingly \nbusy making a new constitution. I guess we shall \nhave a good one, and such a one as will make civi- \nlizees open their eyes wide with astonishment. I \nwish you could have seen the pictures Mr. Brisbane \nhas of a phalanstery and its domain in full har- \nmony. They are magnificent in design, and give \none a pretty clear glance, at least, into the kingdom \nof heaven that is to come on earth. Mr. Brisbane \nand Mr. Macdaniel are still here. I like them very \nmuch. We have had some very pleasant social re- \nunions, some walks and glorious coasts.\" \n\nThe great building, or Phalanstery, begun in the \nsummer of 1844, in which the Fourierite idea of \ncommunal life was to find full expression, was burned \non the evening of March 3, 1846. The next day \nMarianne Dwight wrote to one of her friends an \naccount of the fire, which is of much interest as \nshowing the attitude of the people toward this \ncalamity. The account shows the spiritual earnest- \n\n\n96 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nness and the moral devotion which Brook Farm \ndeveloped in its members to a large extent. \n\n\" I must, with what poor words I can, attempt to \nput you in possession of the particulars about the \nburning of our Phalanstery. The council had just \nappointed a committee to superintend the finishing \nof the Phalanstery, and had dispersed, when Mr. \nSalisbury, passing the building, saw a light in the \nupper part, and put his head into a window to learn \nthe cause thereof. Men had been at work there all \nday, and a fire kept in a stove. He found the room \nfull of smoke, and ran instantly to the Eyrie and \ntold Mr. Ripley, who was the first on the spot. \n\n\" Then came the sudden, earnest cry, ' Fire ! the \nPhalanstery ! ' that startled us all, and for a moment \nmade every face pale with consternation. I was \nin my room, and ran to the front of the house. \nFlames were issuing from one of the remote win- \ndows, and spreading rapidly. It was at once evi- \ndent that nothing could be done. It seemed but \nfive minutes when the flames had spread from end \nto end. Men ran in every direction, making almost \nfruitless attempts to save windows and timber. The \ngreatest exertions were made to save the Eyrie, \nwhich at one time was too hot to bear the hand, \nand even smoked. Our neighbor Mr. Orange went \nfirst on the roof, and worked like a hero, and not \nin vain. \n\n\"Would I could convey to you an idea of the \nscene ! It was glorious beyond description. How \ngrand when the immense heavy column of smoke \n\n\nBROOK FARM 97 \n\nfirst rose up to heaven ! There was no wind, and it \nascended almost perpendicularly. I looked upon it \nfrom our house until the whole front was on fire : \nthat was beautiful, indeed. The whole colonnade \nwas wTeathed spirally with fire, and every window \nglowing. I was calm, felt that it was the work of \nheaven, and was good ; and not for one instant did \nI feel otherwise. Then I threw^ on my cloak, and \nrushed out to mingle with the people. All were \nstill, calm, resolute, undaunted. The expression \non every face seemed to me sublime. There was \na solemn, serious, reverential feeling, such as must \ncome when we are forced to feel that human aid is \nof no avail, and that a higher hand than man's is at \nwork. I heard solemn words of trust, cheerful \nwords of encouragement, resignation, gratitude, \nand thankfulness, but not one of terror or despair. \nAll were absorbed in the glory and sublimity of the \n\nscene. \n\n\" In less than an hour and a half the whole was \nlevelled to the ground. The Phalanstery was fin- \nished. Not the building alone, but the scenery \naround was grand. As it was to be, I would not \nhave missed it for the world. I assure you the \nmoral sublimity with which the people took it was \nnot the least part of it. The good Archon [Rip- \nley] was like an angel. Mrs. Ripley alone was for \nhalf an hour too much overcome to look upon it. \n\n\" People rushed here from Roxbury, Dedham, \nBoston, and Cambridgeport. Engines could not \nhelp us much. There was such a rush of the \n\n\n98 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nworld's people to the Hive. We gave them what \nwe could, — made hot coffee, brought out bread and \ncheese, and feasted about two hundred of the \nfatigued, hungry multitude. Mr. Orange brought \nus provisions from his house, and ran through the \nstreet for milk. About midnight I wrote letters to \nOrvis and Allen, for I thought they would be in \nagony for us if they did not get their first intelli- \ngence directly from home. I had one short sound \nsleep, and was up early, writing to Frank. I looked \nat the bare hill this morning, I must say, with a \nfeeling of relief. There was an encumbrance gone. \n\n\" Heaven had interfered to prevent us from fin- \nishing that building so foolishly undertaken, so \npoorly planned and built, and which again and \nagain some of us have thought and said we should \nrejoice to see blown away or burned down. It has \ngone suddenly, gloriously, magnificently; and w;e \nshall have no further trouble with it. Just what \nthe effect will be to us, it is impossible now to tell. \nThe contract was lately given into our own hands ; \nand, I suppose, ours must be the loss. About \n$7,000 had been spent on it. We must take deep \nto heart a good lesson. We have been through \nabout every other trial : now we have been through \nthe fire. We needed this experience, and I pray \nwe may come from it like pure gold. It leaves us \nno worse off than before we began it, and, in some \nrespects, better. May Heaven bless to us the \nevent ! \n\n\" I feared it would look ugly, dismal, and smutty \n\n\nBROOK FARM 99 \n\nthis morning ; but the ruins are really picturesque. \nA part of the stone foundation stands like a row of \ngravestones, the tomb of the Phalanstery. Thank \nGod, not the tomb of our hopes ! Charles Dana \nreturned from New York an hour since, and, I am \nhappy to say, takes it as cheerfully as the rest of \nus. We breakfasted an hour later than usual to- \nday, and our hired carpenters have gone back to \nDedham. I see no other change. The day is \ncalm and beautiful. All goes on as usual. We \nlook toward the hill, and all seems like a strange \ndream. You cannot think how it struck me last \nnight towards the close of the fireworks, when, after \nwatching the constantly rolling flames for two \nhours, I looked up to the sky, and saw Orion look- \ning down so steadily, so calmly, reminding me of \nthe unchanging and eternal.\" \n\nTwo letters written by the same hand, one in \nMarch and one in April, only a few weeks after the \nfire, give farther proofs of the courage and moral \nearnestness and loyalty of the people who then \nmade up the Brook Farm community. \n\n\"Last evening,\" she wrote, \"we had a new \nflowering of the tree of life that seems to have \ntaken such deep root in this spot, in spite of the \nsoil. Our friend and associate, W. H. Cheswell, \nwishing to celebrate the anniversary of his arrival \nat this Eden, invited everybody to attend his regu- \nlar dancing school. I felt very unlike it, had been \nalmost ill with the headache all day ; but, as friend \nCheswell has always looked with a jealous eye upon \n\n\nloo JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nthe aristocratic element, John thought it would be \nbest to go, and persuaded me into it. And right \nglad we are that we went. The dancing went off \nin fine style : it could not have been better. About \nten o'clock, two by two, we were all marched out of \nthe dining-hall into the parlors, to await the setting \nof the table. When notice was given, each gentle- \nman took his lady, and we marched back again, \nand seated ourselves at the table, which extended \nthrough the centre of the room from end to end, \nand offered us the tempting luxuries of hot coffee, \ncake, crackers, and cheese. After partaking of \nthese dainties, Charles Dana rose, and announced \nthat he would read the toasts which had been pre- \npared for the occasion. They were very excellen!: \nand some of them not a little amusing. The differ- \nent groups were toasted, from the printing group to \nthe plain sewers, and individuals called upon for \nspeeches. These were ready and admirable. We \nhad fun and wit, poetry and sober good sense, \nearnestness and solemnity. There was a new con- \nsecrating of each and all to our work here at Brook \nFarm, — a pledging of the groups to faithful, de- \nvoted, needful action, and the very heartiest expres- \nsion of hope, faith, and union. \n\n\" The one discordant note that has sounded in \nour ears lately came round into harmony ; and \nthunders of applause burst forth as Charles Dana, \nwith recovered strength and energy, expressed his \ndeep faith that the cause of association and its \nwork must and would be carried on to some extent \n\n\nBROOK FARM loi \n\nhere at Brook Farm. The Archon, unluckily, was \nnot present, and says he wants to have it over \nagain. It was such a meeting as never happens \nbut once. Charles Dana and John Orvis were \nthe only persons present of our usual speakers. \nIndeed, it was all the better for that ; for there was \nno restraint. Anybody could get up, and, in his \nway, say the good word ; and I do say it was one \nof the very best parties I ever attended. Do tell \nMr. Channing, if you see him, that I would have \ngiven the world to have had him present, or per- \nhaps behind the scenes. It would have done his \nheart so much good to have seen this new develop- \nment of the good spirit that is working in us and \nbinding us together in strength. In truth, we are \na Phalanx.\" \n\n\" We are now starting in what appears a com- \nmon-sense way,\" she wrote a month later. \" We \nhave reduced our plans somewhat, but I trust a \nhigher ideal is before us than ever. One thing is \ncertainly very encouraging, and to me it is really \nprovidential. How is it that the people who are \nnot calculated to help us, who, though good in their \nway, yet lack that refinement which is indispensable \nto give a good tone to the place, do actually with- \ndraw in the pleasantest manner, wholly unasked, \nand without any chance of feeling that their with- \ndrawal is desirable to us ? I cannot call it chance. \nGod wills it. God means something by it. We \nhave lately felt it really necessary that certain \npeople should leave. We have not known how to \n\n\ni02 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nbring it about. Well, all at once comes a call \nto them, a better prospect opens to them outside. \nIn these changes there is something trying to our \nfeelings, but they are well. We are thankful that \nthey have come about so pleasantly. Those of us \nleft are capable of improving by living together, \nand feel very closely drawn together. We feel our \nbrotherhood with those who have gone, but it \nalways seemed to me a great mistake to admit \ncoarse people upon the place. Now we need not \nfear subjecting our pupils to evil influences from \nsuch quarters. Indeed, I see not why we cannot \nnow offer as good or better moral influences than \ncould be found at any other boarding-school. \n\n\" My interest now must centre in the school. I \ndo know what a good school is. I know well why \nwe have not had a good one here, and I see clearly \nthat we can easily have the very best. I am sol- \nemnly determined to use my utmost efforts to bring \nit about. I have offered myself to the work, have \njust been elected chief of the teachers' group, which \ngives me, together with Mrs. Ripley (chief of the \neducational series), and, indeed, more than she, the \nsuperintendence of the school. Her health requires \nthat I should give her this relief ; and I enter upon \nthe duties with alacrity and cheerfulness, with dif- \nfidence, to be sure, and yet with confidence. Think \nwhat aid I can command, — the Ripleys, Charles \nDana, John S. Dwight, Fanny, Miss Russell, etc. \n\n\" The change we make in our organization will \nsecure to each group greater independence than \n\n\nBROOK FARM 103 \n\nbefore. Each will transact its own business, make \nits own sales and purchases. We need money to \ninvest in some departments, and for this purpose \na subscription is now going on. We feel that we \nhave a right to call upon citizens to help us with \ntheir money to accomplish what we can toward \nbuilding up a true system of life.\" \n\nOne effect of the change made in the internal \norganization was the establishment of a printing- \noffice at Brook Farm, and the publication of a \nweekly sixteen-page, three-columned paper called \nthe Harbinger. It was devoted to the interests \nwhich Brook Farm represented; but it had wide \nsympathies, and was not in any sense partisan. \nA tone of intellectual earnestness pervaded the \nwhole paper, its literary character was of the best, \nand a spirit of cultured manliness infused itself into \nevery page. Into the Harbinger went a good part \nof the best life of John S. Dwight for the next three \nyears. He wrote much for it, and he was actively \nconnected with its literary management. A few \nletters will indicate something of the nature of his \neditorial labors. When the paper was being planned, \nhe wrote to Emerson for aid; and the reply is \ncharacteristic. \n\n\"Your letter was very kind and friendly,\" Emer- \nson wrote, \" and one is always glad that anything is \nadventured in the midst of so much excusing and \nimpediment ; and yet, though I should heartily re- \njoice to aid in an uncommitted journal, — not limited \nby the name of any man, — I will not promise a line \n\n\nI04 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nto any which has chosen a patron. We shall never \ndo anything if we begin with being somebody else. \nThen, though I admire the genius of Fourier, since \nI have looked a little into his books, yet it is only \nfor his marvellous tactics. He is another French \nsoldier or rather mathematician, such as France \nis always turning out; and they apply their \nwonderful ciphering indifferently to astronomy, \nchemistry, war, or politics. But they are a sub-type, \nas modern science now says, deficient in the first \nfaculty, and therefore should never be allowed the \nlead in grand enterprises, but may very well serve \nas subordinate coadjutors, where their powe. as \neconomists will stand in good stead. It seems \nsadly true that the scholars and philosophers, and \nI might say also the honest and well-disposed part \nof society, have no literary organ or voice which is \nnot desperately sectarian ; and we are always im- \npelled towards organization by the fear that our little \npower will become less. But, if things come to a \nstill worse pass, indignation will perhaps summon \na deeper-voiced and wiser muse than our cool New \nEngland has ever listened to. I am sure she will \nbe native, and no immigrant, least of all will she \nspeak French. But she will, I doubt not, have \nmany wreaths of honor to bestow on you and your \nfriends at Brook Farm ; for courage and hope and \nreal performance, God and man and muses love. \n\n\" You see how little and how much faith I have. \nAs far as your journal is sectarian, I shall respect it \nat a distance. If it should become catholic, I shall \n\n\nBROOK FARM 105 \n\nbe found suing for a place in it. Respectfully and \naffectionately yours.\" \n\nHe had better success with Lowell, who not only \nsent a poem, but wrote of efforts to serve his friend \nin other ways : — \n\n\" Leigh Hunt, in one of his pleasant essays, says \nthat he often pleased himself while he wrote with \nthinking that this or that thought or expression \nwould please some one in particular of his friends. \nIn writing the poem which I send for the Har- \nbinger, I said to myself, J. S. D. will like this, and \nso I send it. The images are perhaps a little too \nbold for our close-clipped American public, who, \nnevertheless, would be willing to sit quietly once \na week under the reading of the book of Job, think- \ning all the while that for inspiration it compares \nunfavorably with Pope. But I have a notion that \nit will be very much to your mind. Maria, who is \nmy public, likes it ; but do not print it unless you \ndo. Please see to the proof-sheets, — for I have \nbeen martyred several times that way, — and do not \nlet your compositor make lumberer into slumberer, \nas, from my knowledge of the compositor turn of \nmind, I am sure he will be desirous to do. Do you \nthink finned isles too outrageous an expression for \ninnocent whales? You remember how they thrust \ntheir hilly backs above the water and lie asleep, ana \nSinbad's adventure also. \n\n\" I carried your sister's drawings to Dr. Gray, but \nfound that he keeps an artist. He did not at all \nappreciate them, looking at them (though I told \n\n\nio6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhim over and over that they were not drawn for \nscientific purposes) with the eye of an anatomist, \ncounting the pistils and stamens, and wholly in- \ncapable of perceiving their wonderful dramatic pro- \npriety (I know no other term for it), which quite \nshamed his scientific artist's productions. How- \never, he was Gray-cious enough to say that, with a \nlittle botanical study, your sister would do exceed- \ningly well, and that, if he lost his ' artist,' of which \nhe had some fears, he should be glad to employ her \npencil. It was a furnace-hot day when I carried \nthem down, and I was drenched with sweat en* ugh \nto have earned my bread for life (if the terms of the \nAdamic curse could be strictly complied with) ; and \nDr. Gray looked so cool and clean, and so insensible \nto my pictures (for I had made them mine by the \ninterest I felt in them), that I went away provoked \nto even greater heat. Nevertheless, Dr. Gray is \none of the best men I know, — the ideal of a profes- \nsor,— simple-hearted, and an enthusiast for his \nscience. It is not his fault that Providence did not \ngive him a poetic eye. \n\n\" Duyckinck writes me doubtfully about the \nessays. He says he likes very much those he has \nseen, but doubts their salableness, especially as \nsome of them have been printed once. As he him- \nself knows nothing whatever of music, I think his \nliking is an equally strong argument for their sale. \nPerhaps it would be well to send him such as you \ncan. He is only an acquaintance of mine, but I \nspoke of them as warmly as I could without injur- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 107 \n\ning them in his man-of-the-world opinion by too \ngreat anxiety. \n\n\" If you print my poem and have two numbers \nto spare, send them to me. Do not forget your \nengagement to visit us at Commencement. I began \na review of Lord's poems for you, which I will fin- \nish and send to you. The heat cut me short in it.\" \n\nThe poem was printed in the Harbinger for \nAug. 2, 1845, under the title of \"To a Pine-tree,\" \nand may be found in Lowell's poetical works with \na few emendations. \n\nDwight was a constant contributor to the pages \nof the Harbinger during the whole period of its \npublication at Brook Farm. He wrote for it edi- \ntorials on association, music, and literary topics, he \nreviewed many books, and he sometimes contrib- \nuted poems. He also translated several works from \nthe French of Fourier, Victor Considerant, and \nother associationist writers. During the progress \nof the third volume he became intimately con- \nnected with the editorial management of the paper. \nHe assumed with Ripley the responsibility of con- \nducting it, and devoted much of his time to its \nmanagement. In this volume, appeals were made \nin behalf of the paper ; and a guarantee fund was \nraised among the friends of association. Before the \nend of the fourth volume the paper became dis- \ntinctly the organ of the American Union of Asso- \nciationists, which organization assumed its control \nand the financial responsibility of its publication. \nAt this time Ripley and Dwight were elected the \n\n\nio8 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\neditors, and the sum of five dollars each per week \nwas voted them by the Union. \n\nIn the first number of the Harbhtger^ Dwight re- \nviewed the musical defects of this country in the \npast, maintained that the new social spirit gave the \nhighest promise for musical development in the \nfuture ; and he set forth his purpose to devote a \nportion of the Harbinger to the furtherance of mu- \nsical taste and knowledge. \" We wish,\" he wrote, \n\"to consider music as one of the expressions and \nas one of the inspiring causes of the resth 3S but \nprophetic spirit of these times. Of course, then, \nwe shall not say much of mere musical trifles. It \nshall be our business constantly to notice and up- \nhold for study and for imitation music which is \ndeep and earnest ; which does not merely seek to \namuse, but which is the most enlightened outpour- \ning of the composer's life. . . . Three things we \nshall have in view: (i) the criticism of music as an \nart ; (2) the interpretation of it as an expression of \nthe life of the age ; and (3) the development of its \ncorrespondence as a science with other sciences, \nand especially with the science of the coming so- \ncial order and the transition through which we are \npassing towards it.\" \n\nThis programme was carried out with earnest- \nness and success, and the Harbiiiger became one \nof the best musical journals the country has ever \npossessed. The criticisms were strong and effec- \ntive ; and the interpretative articles were in good \nliterary form, incisive with keen artistic insight, and \n\n\nBROOK FARM 109 \n\nadapted to give the art real meaning as a source of \nculture. \n\nIn October, 1847, the Harbinger came to an end \nat Brook Farm, and was transferred to New York, \nwhere it appeared in a new form, but with much \nthe same spirit. Dwight continued his connection \nwith it as one of the Boston editorial contributors, \nthe other being W. H. Channing. To the seventh \nvolume he made thirty-seven contributions, includ- \ning a translation from the columns of the Dhno- \ncratie Pacifique, the Fourierite daily journal of \nParis, of a work of Victor Considerant on \" Har- \nmony.\" He wrote on music in Boston, three ar- \nticles on \"What made you an Associationist .f^ \" two \non a plan for an associative dwelling, one on the \nassociative theory of property, and several literary \nreviews. As an indication of the literary judgment, \nappreciation, and skill with which Dwight dealt \nwith the books which he reviewed, a letter from \nLongfellow, bearing the date of Dec. 10, 1847, may \nhere be presented : — \n\n\" I should have written sooner,\" said the poet, \n\" to thank you for your most friendly and cordial \nnotice of 'Evangeline' in the Harbinger; but by \nsome adverse fate I could not get a copy of the \npaper till some ten or fifteen days after its publica- \ntion. It would hardly be modest in me to tell you \nhow much satisfaction it gave me ; but, setting \nmodesty aside, I thank you for it very heartily, and \nthis rather for the sympathy than the praise. \nThere are so many persons who rush forward in \n\n\nno JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nfront of one, and, seizing one's Pegasus by the rein, \ngive him such a jerk as to make his mouth bleed, \nthat I always feel grateful to any one who is willing \nto go a few paces side by side with me. I think \nyou will agree with me that what a writer asks of \na reader is not so much to like as to listen. You I \nhave to thank for both ; and, I assure you, I have \nseldom, if ever, read a notice of any work of mine \nwhich gave me so much pleasure as yours of \n' Evangeline.' \" \n\nIn its new form and place of publication, at first \nthe Harbinger gave promise of success ; and it was \nproposed that Dwight should go to New York and \ndevote his time wholly to its pages. To this effect \nis a letter to him from Parke Godwin, which also \nshows Dwight's continued interest in association. \n\"Ripley informs me,' wrote Godwin, \"that you \nhesitate about coming on to the meeting of the \nAmerican Union of Associationists ; but I hope \nyou will be enabled to do so. We want to see you \nmuch. There is a great deal to talk about, espe- \ncially in reference to the Harbinger. It is an \nimportant time in other respects. Come by all \nmeans ! Besides, we want a word from you touch- \ning your Opera here. You will see the artistic de- \npartment here is wofuUy neglected. We have no \none to do the work, yet it is indispensable that \nsomething should be done. Would that you could \nbe with us permanently, or at least a part of the \ntime ! With your co-operation here^ we should be \nable to make the best paper in the United States. \n\n\nBROOK FARM iii \n\nAs it is, I know of none better, me judice ; but, with \na few modifications and improvements, everybody \nelse would be made to know the same thing, which \nis of more consequence to our success. By the \nway, what has become of the Boston editor? or \ndoes he mean to write only once in six weeks ? \nPlease stir him up. The Harbinger has done very \nwell in its pecuniary receipts the last month. \nTweedy, who has an eye for business, is quite en- \ncouraged. I see no reason why we cannot make \nthe paper pay for itself; i.e., with a little industry and \nenterprise. I think it can still be greatly improved \nin the arrangement and character of its matter, all \nof which we shall try for, hard.\" \n\nWe must now return to the period immediately \nfollowing the burning of the Phalanstery at Brook \nFarm. Dwight went to New York a few days \nlater, to give a course of four lectures on music. \nDuring his stay in that city he was domiciled with \nhis old friend and classmate, Rev. Henry W. Bel- \nlows. The fire gave another purpose to his visit \nthan that of musical propagandism, and he made \nthe interests of Brook Farm and association an \nalmost constant topic of discussion among his \nfriends. He wrote to George Ripley of his efforts \nin behalf of Brook Farm, especially. \n\n\" My days are crowded full ; and I get little time \nfor writing, even on my lectures. At the first lect- \nure there were about one hundred and twenty per- \nsons present, some of the subscribers failing on ac- \ncount of short notice and other accidental reasons. \n\n\n112 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nThe impression was far better than I had hoped. \nI believe it gave universal satisfaction to those who \nheard, although I extemporized association at the \nend of it. Dr. Dewey was highly delighted, and \nhas paid me much attention. On Saturday the \nweather was so unpromising I was advised to post- \npone. By this I gained time to see our associa- \ntion friends. I had quite a talk with Greeley. He \nwrote upon the paper which I took with me, ' I \ngive up all my stock unconditionally, and will sub- \nscribe, besides, the first $100 I get which does not \nbelong to somebody else.' Marcus Spring gives \nup his, and expresses a wish to subscribe some- \nthing. He says that he has got something which \nhe is holding in reserve to aid this cause ; but he \nfears that Brook Farm, in its present locality, can- \nnot do much. I convinced him, I think, that it is \nindispensable for us to go on, and to go on where \nwe are for some years more, at least. He says he \nwill aid, but he does not wish to encourage any \nlarge expenditure on our present operations. He \nbelieves that we Brook Farmers are the real and \nonly nucleus of the association to be first realized \nin this country. \n\n\" I met him again at Miss Lynch s party in the \nevening, and had more talk. The result was to in- \nvite me over to Brooklyn last night (Sunday) to \nmeet the Christian Union people. So, after hold- \ning private matins with Fred Rackemann, who \nopened to me the gospels according to Beethoven, \nMendelssohn, and other minor prophets, and after \n\n\nBROOK FARM 113 \n\ndining with George Curtis, and attending ' Ves- \npers ' at the Catholic church, and walking six or \nseven miles, I (with Cranch) arrived at Marcus \nSpring's, and took tea and had music. Then we \nadjourned to Mr. Manning's, where some thirty \npeople were assembled. I held forth for the whole \nevening on the history and condition and prospects \nof Brook Farm, answering everybody's questions, \nand going very fully into the matter. I told the \nstrict truth, and found that to most people it was \nnot near so bad as they had expected. Every one \nseemed deeply interested, and anxious that Brook \nFarm should go on. \n\n*' Mr. Hicks relinquishes his stock. Mr. Mann- \ning gives his to Channing, to dispose of as he \npleases. Mr. Hunt is willing to do anything; and \nMr. Benson, of his own accord, said that some ef- \nfort must be made in New York to help out the \nsubscription in Boston. Tweedy seems deeply in- \nterested, and is more and more a Fourierist, having \nattained to it by much the same internal process \nthat I did. He is a man much after my own \nheart. You may consider the whole of the stock \nheld in New York as cancelled. As soon as a clear \nplan shapes itself on our part, there will be some- \nthing done here. \n\n'*! talk association everywhere. Everybody \n\n. questions me, and I have removed prejudices from \n\na good many minds. With Mr. and Mrs. Bellows I \n\nhave talked hours and hours, — in fact, all the time, \n\n— and think they entertain the idea rather more \n\n\n114 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nwillingly. Of gastrosophic adventures I have too \nmuch to tell : that shall be for Brook Farm even- \ning chats. Parties, music, dinings out and in, and \nhosts of visitors, besides the tremendously long \nwalks, and hitherto unfortunate attempts to write \non my last lectures, crowd my days to the fullest. \nEvery day I am belated, run away with, lost, and \nwearied. But I can stand it some time longer; and \nit is wholly profitable, I think. I have had real \npleasure in Dr. Dixon and lady, and mellifluous \nRev. Mr. Hart ; so, too, in Kempel, who is extrava- \ngantly delighted with my lecture. Had a beauti- \nful evening also at Godwin's, where were Miss Sin- \nclair, Margaret Fuller, Mrs. Kirkland, Dewey and \ndaughter, etc.\" \n\nTo one of his sisters he wrote : \" My lectures in \none sense were very successful ; that is, they pro- \nduced a deep impression, and were even received \nwith enthusiasm. But, pecuniarily, the result will \nnot be what I expected. I shall hardly realize over \none hundred dollars instead of two. This is owing \nto the great expense of hall and advertising. The \naudience doubled on the second night, and shrank \na little after that. It was owing partly to the in- \nertia of my enthusiastic friends about noticing in \nthe newspapers. But it will be a fine opening, I \nthink, for another time. More of this when I get \nhome. \n\n\" I have had a wonderfully fine time, socially. \nWilliam Story and a party of friends from Boston \nhave been here some days. We all, with Cranch \n\n\nBROOK FARM 115 \n\nand his wife, were at Mrs. Child's on Sunday \nevening. Mrs. Child's enthusiasm about my lect- \nures is unbounded. She presented me a beauti- \nful bouquet at the close of the last, and says they \nhave given her the only fresh feeling of interest \nsince Ole Bull. On the subject of that gentleman \nwe frankly differ, but she tolerates my heresy.\" \n\n\" And so my estimate of your lectures was not \none of my exaggerations, after all ! \" wrote Mrs. \nGeorge Ripley to Dwight. \" Tributes to the merits \nof the first one are coming in upon us ; and yet I \ncannot think the audience, unaccustomed to your \nmode of expression, to your somewhat associative \ndialect, can have gone into the depths of the \nthought. I feel as if a repetition of them would \nbe demanded, and am trying to get used to the \nthought of a slightly prolonged absence on your \npart. I wish you could have seen the group in the \nreading-room last evening after supper, the tall \nones stooping over and the short ones standing \ntiptoe to read the notice of you in the Tribu7ie, \nCan I tell you the pleasure with which your letter \nwas received 1 Your description of the luxuries of \ncivilization seemed very like a story I once read of \nAladdin's wonderful lamp, and your deep sense of \nthe more abundant wealth to be found in the cir- \ncle of pure Phalansterians was most cordially re- \nsponded to. What a rich and varied life you are \nat once drawn into ! and, in the midst of it you \nfind your home circle of every-day Brook Farm \nfriends. You have an unusually grand standpoint \nfrom which to speak to the public. \n\n\nii6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n\" Thank you for Mr. King's letter. That little \nsentence in which he speaks of our loss as bringing \nus again into harmony with universal laws is worth \nall he has written for months. How true, too, that \nwe can see a Providential guidance in our all being \nled back to our primitive occupations, and hav- \ning somewhat collected our scattered forces and \nbrought them to bear on definite objects of real \nvalue, before we were thrown into dismay by our \ncalamity ! We had in some sort, and almost un- \nconsciously, planned our new mode of life before \nwe were burned out of the old one. \n\n\" We earnestly wish for you back at every \nmoment and every turn ; and yet, surely, this is a \nbetter time for your absence than later. Everything \nnow is preliminary. The general council meets \nevery night. They have been reviewing all depart- \nments, looking over accounts, etc., I think all \nminds tending towards the decision that it will be \nbest to give up our property and begin anew (this, \nof course, entirely private), let school, paper, paint- \ning and domestic industry necessarily connected \nwith them, constitute the associative centre, and \nour band of farmers (stanch and noble-minded yeo- \nmen as they are) take the farm under some new ar- \nrangement, including more responsibility on their \npart. Mr. Shaw says the school and paper must \nnot be given' up for a single week. His interest is \nreviving under the light of a new hope, and he \ncomes with cheerful spirits almost every day. Mr. \nRussell is much engaged about the school, and \nsays he can do something for it. ... \n\n\nBROOK FARM 117 \n\n\" Mr. Orvis came home Tuesday, rather worn \ndown and disappointed, but with undying hope, \nfaith, and devotion. He went to town yesterday to \nmake some more active arrangements^ about the \nsubscription. Much can be done if we are in a \nsituation to avail ourselves of it, which we are not \njust at present. One thing you will be glad to \nknow, — that all minds in the least degree capable \nof it are thinking and deciding for themselves. \nThere is no crushing influence bearing upon them. \nI never knew them more free. Last night a grand \nletter came from John Allen, full of glowing love, \nexpressed in his primitive style.\" ... \n\nIn a letter to Charles Dana the lectures were \nspoken of by Parke Godwin in this wise : \" As to \nDwight's lectures, let me say, that they have been \nthe best things we have ever had here. All who \nheard them were delighted. He excelled himself, \nand for me they were * a refreshing from the presence \nof the Lord.' If this city were not wholly given up \nto idolatry, it would have rushed in a body to hear \nsuch sound and beautiful doctrine.\" \n\nIn a letter to the Boston Courier, Mrs. Lydia \nMaria Child gave her estimate of the man and \nhis lectures. \" He possesses qualifications for \nsuch a task,\" she wrote, \" rarely combined in \none person, — a delicate musical organization, ac- \ncurate scientific knowledge, and the far-reaching \nglance of a poet which enables him to perceive that \nmusic is the golden key to unlock all the analogies \nof the universe. But such a man must necessarily \n\n\nii8 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nalways speak to a select few. The mechanical musi- \ncian, occupied with counting the beats in a bar, \nis by no means deeply interested when informed \nthat man, in his social progress, has arrived at the \ndissonant Seventh, which clamors vociferously for \nthe coming octave. He who merely enjoys sweet \nsounds, as he would the gurgle of brooks in the \nspringtime, cares just as little about the spiritual \nsignificance of three, seven, and twelve, without \nwhich music could never have lived as an art or \ntaken form as a science. I was, in fact, surprised \nthat so many of the audience appeared excited by \nhis comprehensive thoughts and charmed with his \npoetic fancies. I was myself especially pleased that \nsuch an intense admirer of Beethoven was able to \ndo full justice to the graceful brilliancy of Rossini \nand the sparkling fairy play of Auber. The same \nmind has rarely a true appreciation of such diverse \nforms of beauty. \n\n\" The great difficulty with Dwight is that he \nalways wants to say a great deal more than he can \nsay. Inwardly rich and outwardly unpractical, his \nartless and beautiful soul is strangely out of place \nin these bustling and pretending times. He always \nseems to me like a little child who has lost his way \nin the woods with an apron brimful of flowers, \nwhich he don't know what to do with ; but, if you \ncan take them, he will gladly give you all.\" \n\nThe Tribune said that \" Mr. Dwight's lectures \nmark an epoch in the musical history of New York ; \nfor, although we have had the opportunity of hear- \n\n\nBROOK FARM 119 \n\ning so much fine music, it is perhaps the first time \nthat we have had a clear and wise assertion of the \ndignity and compass of the art. Those who regard \nit as something too subtle to be discussed in lectures \nor in any other way will find that these are only \nexpositions of the exact laws of infinite analogy and \ncorrespondence which govern music as a science, \nand, further, only a simple and sincere expression of \nthe experience wrought by it upon a delicate and \npoetical mind to which music is the celestial ex- \npression of the sublimest hope. Mr. Dwight hap- \npily unites the characteristics of the three classes so \nwell described in his first lecture, to which music is \neither sentiment, science, or recreation, so that he \nshows himself a wise lover and a sympathetic critic. \nHis course is so short that he has been necessarily \nrestricted to a bold sketching to convey his whole \nimpression, but it lies so accurately outlined in his \nown mind that it is very beautifully presented to \nothers.\" \n\nFrom this time on the future of Brook Farm \nconstantly engaged the interest of Dwight and his \nearnest colaborers. The number of members was \nreduced, each person was made responsible for his \nown personal support, and an effort was made \nto introduce the most remunerative employments. \nFor a little time it seemed possible that the new \nmethods might succeed. In September, while this \nadjustment was being made, Dwight wrote to Mrs. \nChild : — \n\n\" Your * Poet's Dream of the Soul ' I have read \n\n\nI20 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nwith delight. I believe in its essential philosophy, \nand I was equally surprised with the result. Men- \ndelssohn has been a great object of interest with \nme this summer. A friend gave me in the spring \na set of his ' Lieder ohne Worte.' Hearing my sis- \nter play them, and working over them myself, has \nbeen the sweetest thing of this summer's life. I \nwas just preparing to write down some fitting tes- \ntimony to this pleasure in the Harbinger, when \nyour story came. You will see I have made some \nuse of it. But how to go on or keep a foothold in \nthis element at all, just now, I scarcely see; for I \nam beset and preoccupied and exhausted with most \nperplexing and incessant cares. \n\n\" Brook Farm must either stop or change its \nform and operations most entirely. And I am in \nthe midst of this, — everything to settle, nothing \nthat is not altogether loose and unsettled, and mean- \nwhile the Harbinger to edit, and ever so much of \nother work to which I had pledged myself. How- \never, a week or two now will decide all, I trust. I \nthink we shall go on, but on a much reduced scale, \nand every one who stays responsible for support- \ning his own business and his own material person. \n\n\" You date, I see, from the resolution of the flat \nSeventh into the Sixth, or composite. That is a \nvery lovely region. Mendelssohn is there, it is true ; \nand I sometimes effect a transition into it. But \nyou may judge from what I have said above that I \nhail from the sphere of all distraction and discord- \nance, perhaps I might say from the chord of the \n\n\nBROOK FARM 121 \n\nDiminished Seventh, the type of universal transi- \ntion, wild, impatient, tortured with uncertainty and \nsuspense. As I can hardly expect to reach the \noctave, the sublime height of universal unity, I \nhumbly hope I also may resolve into the lovely A.\" \n\nAnother year brought Brook Farm to its end. \nRipley went to New York to struggle with the \nHarbinger for a year and a half longer. He wrote \nthe bravest letters to Dwight through this period \nof bitter struggle and severest drudgery. Dwight \nwent to Boston to find an opening as a literary \nworker, and had a struggle not less severe than \nthat of his friend. Gradually the interest in asso- \nciation died out, though the most vigorous effort \nwas made to keep it alive. The faith in it of both \nRipley and Dwight lost no bit of its depth and \nforce with the closing of Brook Farm; and they \nstill hoped that new methods would bring larger \nresults, or results more conducive to final success. \nGradually they came to se^ that the struggle was \nin vain, at least for that time. They did not, how- \never, lose faith in that for which they had labored \nso hard and sacrificed so much ; and they were as- \nsociationists at heart to the hour of death. \n\nIt has been assumed by many that Brook Farm \ncame to an end in complete eclipse, and left no in- \nfluence behind it except that it wrought upon indi- \nvidual lives This is a mistake in every way, for it \nwas in reality the forerunner of movements more \nimportant than itself. Out of the associationist \nmovement of the later forties, of which Brook \n\n\n122 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nFarm was the chief feature, came the efforts to \norganize the laboring men of the country. When \nW. H. Channing preached association in Boston, \nhe drew about him a number of workingmen. One \nof these men said : \" This is the first time I have \nfound a church. Mr. Channing is the first preacher \nwho has given me bread instead of a stone.\" When \nthey found that they could not go to Brook Farm, \nthey cast about for means of helping themselves \nin an associative way. A co-operative purchasing \nagency was established by them. The interest grew \nrapidly. Soon there were in Boston and vicinity a \ndozen such societies ; and in ten years there were \nfive hundred and fifty in New England, with an \nannual business of one and a half million dollars. \nIn a considerable degree this result grew out of the \nlecturing done in behalf of Brook Farm and asso- \nciation by Rev. John Allen and John Orvis, who \nwere kept in the lecturing field during the winter \nmonths after Brook Farm took up the teachings of \nFourier. When Brook Farm came to an end, Orvis \ncontinued his labors in behalf of association, aiding \nin the formation of co-operative stores, lecturing in \nthe interest of workingmen, and editing The Voice \nof Industry, a weekly paper which he published in \nBoston. \n\nThe lectures of Allen and Orvis throughout \nNew England served everywhere to arouse the \nworkingmen, and to lead them to agitate and or- \nganize. The efforts of these men, especially of \nAllen, led to systematic action for ten hours as the \n\n\nBROOK FARM 123 \n\nlength of the working day. A delegates' meeting \nof workingmen, convened in Lowell at his call in \n1844, resulted in the organization of the New Eng- \nland Workingmen's Association ; and Louis K. \nRyckman, chief of the Brook Farm \" Shoemaking \nSeries,\" was chosen the president. The object of \nthe association was to secure a persistent agitation \nfor a ten hours' day and the general social im- \nprovement of the laboring class. Allen was an \nearnest and intelligent man, and exerted as a \nspeaker a marked influence over workingmen. \nHe had been a Universalist clergyman ; but his \nanti-slavery sermons gave offence to his denomina- \ntion, and he withdrew from the ministry. \n\nJohn Orvis, the brother-in-law of Dwight, was a \nzealous believer in associative life. It was to him \nan ideal and a religion, and for it he labored all his \nlife. His Voice of Industry he edited for about \ntwo years in Boston as the organ of various work- \ningmen's movements. It was spoken of by \nGreeley as \"one of the best weekly papers pub- \nlished in New England.\" During the panic of \n1873, when the laboring class was in greater dis- \ntress than it had ever known before, he was instru- \nmental in the organization of the Sovereigns of In- \ndustry. As the national lecturer of that organiza- \ntion, he was for more than two years constantly in \nthe field, lecturing to workingmen upon the princi- \nples and methods of conducting co-operative stores \nafter the Rochdale plan, which he had studied on \nthe spot, and in organizing councils of the order in \n\n\n124 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nten States and in the District of Columbia. Large \nnumbers of stores were started ; and, while they \nmostly failed in New England on account of mis- \nmanagement, they were successful in the Middle \nand Western States, especially among the miners \nand workers in the large iron industries. He com- \npiled from standard English authorities rules and \nregulations for the management of these stores, \nwhich were adopted both by the National Council \nof the Sovereigns of Industry and the National \nGrange of the Patrons of Husbandry, as authorized \nby these bodies respectively, for conducting co- \noperative stores. \n\nThere can be little doubt, as Mr. Orvis claimed, \nthat Brook Farm was the chief instrument in set- \nting on foot all the movements since 1840 for the \nbetterment of the wage-earners and the toilers of \nevery kind. Directly it may have done little ; but \nit set the agitation under way, and pointed out the \nlines of effort which have so far been pursued, for \nthe most part. \n\nNo one who was at Brook Farm has ever been \nwilling to admit that the association was a failure \nin any but a financial sense. It is maintained \nby all who were there that the life was genial and \nhappy in a larger degree than they have known \nelsewhere. This might be explained by saying that \ncare and responsibility were removed from the in- \ndividual, that a comfortable home was certain, and \nthat there was no need of individual worry or dis- \ncontent. However true this may have been of the \n\n\nBROOK FARM 125 \n\nmajority, it certainly could not have been true of \nthe leaders, upon whom fell the responsibility of \nproviding ways and means under difficult condi- \ntions. The secret of the satisfaction that the com- \nmunity gave is to be found in another direction. \nMr. Charles A. Dana described it in words which \nare as truthful as they are characteristic : \" Each \nperson chose what he wished to do, and none of the \nboys and girls tried to shirk. There was more en- \ntertainment in doing the duty than in getting away \nfrom it. Every one was not only ready for his \nwork, but glad to do it. This brings me to a \npeculiar feature of the system : the person who did \nthe most disagreeable work was the one to receive \nspecial honor and distinction, because he was the \nservant of the others, and was rendering to his \nbrothers a service not pleasant in itself, but which \nunder other circumstances they would render to \nhim. That was a universal quality and character- \nistic of the society. Just as a sculptor, who is carv- \ning an Apollo, goes to his work with joy and passion, \nso among us every duty and every kind of labor \nought to be performed with the same enthusiasm, \nzeal, and sense of artistic pride.\" \n\nThis kind of life had a charm of its own, and one \nthat impressed itself deeply upon all who came \nwithin its influence. It was something idyllic, full \nof grace and beauty, and satisfying to the highest \naspirations of the heart and mind. This charm \nconsisted, as George P. Bradford testified, \" in the \nfree and natural intercourse for which it gave oppor- \n\n\n126 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ntunity, and in the working of the elective affinities \nwhich here had a full play, so that, although there \nwas a kindly feeling running through the family \ngenerally, little groups of friends, drawn together \ninto closer relations by taste and sympathy, soon \ndeclare themselves. The relief from the fetters and \nburdensome forms of society was a constant delight \nto those who had suffered from them in the artificial \narrangements of society, the inmates were brought \ntoeether in more natural relations, and thus realized \nthe charm of true and hearty intercourse, and at the \nsame time the relief and pleasures of solitude were \nnot wanting.\" Higginson adds to this testimony \nby saying that, \"whatever might be said of the \nactual glebe at Brook Farm, the social structure \nwas of the richest. Those who ever lived there \nusually account it to this day as the happiest period \nof their lives.\" \n\nIt speaks well for Brook Farm that all the per- \nsons who were there for any considerable length of \ntime regretted its failure, and wished to have it go \non. They attributed its want of success to outside \ncauses, and not to any inherent defect in the associa- \ntion itself. The earlier years were undoubtedly the \nmost happy and the most idyllic, with a charm \nsuperior to those which succeeded, when the press- \nure of industrial interests was greater, and when \nthe membership was more varied and less har- \nmonious. If the members looked upon the outside \nworld as in some degree barbarian, and spoke of its \npeople with a tone of contempt as civilizees, it was \n\n\nBROOK FARM 127 \n\na justifiable expression of faith In their own form of \nlife and Its superior merits. Where peace reigned \nand good will was universal might be justly claimed \nas a place worthy of imitation. \n\nThe merits of Brook Farm were those of all \nsimilar societies wherever they have been success- \nful. The clan life of primitive races and the house \ncommunities of more advanced peoples have shown \nforth conspicuously the same advantages. Brook \nFarm had the distinct merit of bringing together a \nlarge number of superior people who devoted them- \nselves to an experiment in education of a unique \nand Interesting character. In no other respect was \ntheir community different from those undertaken \nin considerable numbers at the same period, and on \nthe same general principles in all times and coun- \ntries. The advances in civilization have not been \nso made, and no superior form of social institution \nhas ever been organized without free competition \nand individual struggle. Yet such an experiment \nshows clearly enough that life is finer and more \nbeautiful, kinder and happier, where men are de- \nvoted to each other's good, and where the constant \nstruggle for the mere means of subsistence is made \nless urgent and distracting. No one can find the \nreal charm of life who is anxious each day that those \ndependent on him may have enough to eat and \nwear. \n\nSuch experiments, even in their failures, make it \nclearer that a natural and spontaneous community \nof Interests is necessary to a true social and moral \n\n\n128 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nlife. The method of the associationlsts was not \nlarge enough to secure the results they desired, but \nit hints of how men are helped by serving each \nother. Co-operation will secure what competition \nhas never yet been able to attain, — a united and \nhappy community, — whether tribe, state, or nation, \n— wherein the interests of all are the interests of \neach one, and wherein each member finds his own \nhighest good in seeking that which will conduce to \nthe good of the whole. The way to this happy \nissue will be found through the science of soci- \nology rather than by means of any of the panaceas \noffered by communism and socialism. \n\n\nCHAPTER V. \nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS. \n\nAfter leaving Brook Farm, Dwight took up his \nresidence in Boston, and continued the literary em- \nployments which had largely engaged his attention \nfor some years. He at first joined with a company \nof persons who had been residents of Brook Farm, \nor connected with the several, associationist organi- \nzations in Boston, in trying an experiment of asso- \nciation in the management of a boarding-house. A \nhouse was taken in High Street, and the members \napplied the co-operative method in its management. \nThe experiment was undertaken partly for the sake \nof economy and partly that as many of the Brook \nFarm members as possible might be kept together. \nThis effort at association was continued for only \nabout a year, when, some of the members failing to \nshare their part of the burden, it came to an end. \n\nA member of this co-operative family has given \nthe following account of the occasion of its forma- \ntion and of the arrangements by which it was held \ntogether : \" There had often been talk of a ' com- \nbined household,' and in the fall of 1848 we decided \nto try the experiment for a year. It was with great \nreluctance we took the house in High Street, as it \nwas too far out of the current to suit our purposes ; \nbut it was hard to find a house with rooms enough \nat a rent that we could meet. The rent of each \nroom was appraised; and they were all quickly \ntaken, mostly by members of the three unions of as- \n\n\nI30 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nsociationists, — the Boston, Religious, and Woman's \nUnions, — five of whom had been members of \nBrook Farm, — John S. Dwight, Jonathan Butter- \nfield, Rebecca, John, and Charles Codman. I can- \nnot think of any other. One party, who had been \ngreatly interested in the movement, was obliged to \ngive it up ; and the vacant place was taken by \nstrangers who had expressed great interest, but who \nhad no part previously in the work. The Boston \nand Religious Unions held their regular meetings \nand social entertainments in the large parlors, and \nthe Woman's Union had its little salesroom back. \nAll the household was boarded satisfactorily by the \nWoman's Union, which cleared all expenses, the \nwomen being charged $1.50 and the men $1.75 a \nweek. At the end of the year we separated in va- \nrious directions, some retaining the house for an- \nother year. Mr. Dwight went with his friends, \nwho took a house on Pinckney Street, and re- \nmained with them until after his marriage.\" \n\n■if \n\nDwight did not abandon in any degree his in- \nterest in association on leaving Brook Farm, and \nhis efforts in its behalf continued for at least five \nyears nearly as active as they had been at the com- \nmunity. One form of this activity was his connec- \ntion with the Religious Union of Associationists, \nwhich grew out of the preaching of Rev. W. H. \nChanning at Brook Farm and a small religious \nsociety he there organized. The Religious Union \nwas organized in Boston, Jan. 3, 1847, at the house \nof James T. Fisher, who was made the recording \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 131 \n\nsecretary, and was one of the most earnest and \nefficient members. Channing felt that association \nmust be distinctly based on a religious foundation, \nhence the organization of the society. Its history \nhas been fully told in Frothingham's biography of \nChanning. Dwight had charge of the music at the \nreligious meetings held by the Union ; and during \nthe greater part of the existence of the society he \nwas an earnest worker in its behalf, often presided \nin Channing's absence, and sometimes conducted \nthe services. Among those who sang in the choir \nwere Nathaniel Chapin, O. W. Withington, W. W. \nStory, Frances Dwight, Mary Bullard, Helen M. \nParsons ; and Harriet Grauptner was the pianist. \nAt the first service, held January 3, 1847, the \n\" Sanctus \" from Mozart's Twelfth Mass was sung \nby the Misses Bullard and Helen M. Parsons, and \nby Messrs. Dwight, W. W. Story, and O. W. With- \nington. Most of these persons were warmly inter- \nested in association. \n\nTo the music of this society Dwight gave much \nattention, selecting the best, and that most truly \nadapted to religious purposes, whatever the source \nfrom which it was obtained. Mrs. Ednah D. Che- \nney says she first heard the Kyrie eleison at these \nmeetings. Only the best music was sung, that \nwhich was classical in character and by the great \ncomposers. The grand old church music was fre- \nquently made use of, as were parts of the great \nmasses of the Catholic Church. As Dwight had \nentire charge of selecting and directing the music, \n\n\n132 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhe would have nothing which was not of the very \nbest aesthetic quahty; and he especially aimed to \nharmonize the music with the broad and catholic \nspirit of the religious services as conducted by \nChanning. \n\nIn the American Review for May, 1847, an ac- \ncount of these meetings was given, and the musical \npart of the service was criticised. In the Har- \nbinger for June 19 Dwight made reply, and gave \nhis reasons for selecting classical music. The critic \nfound fault that the singing was not such as he \ncould hear elsewhere, that the mass music was made \nuse of, and that the words were in Latin. \" The \nonly aim of the singers,\" Dwight replied, \"was to \nhave good and practicable music, whether they \nfound it in Catholic masses, in Protestant oratorios, \nin Gregorian and Lutheran chants, or even in Yan- \nkee psalmody. The taste and experience of the \nchoir led them for the time being to selections from \nthese masses, because the music seemed to them so \nwarm, so reverent, so beautifully expressive of the \nheart's best aspirations, and of the true religion, \nwhich is love and joy. The Latin words they did not \nconsider an objection, because they are so beautiful \nand true in themselves, because they are consecrated \nby long usage in a great part of the Christian \nworld, and because, being so simple and few, and \nalways the same for the same theme and sentiment, \nthey explain themselves in connection with the \nmusic ; while the ordinary practice of singing a long \ndidactic poem to a psalm tune is unmusical and in- \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 133 \n\ncongruous in every point of view. But they have \nnever bound themselves to this more than to any \nother music. It has reigned with them thus far \nbecause it proved convenient, and because the \nsingers and the majority of the hearers felt a grow- \ning love for it. But the reviewer heard a common \ncongregational psalm sung in the same place as a \npart of the same service on each day that he was \npresent, which he does not mention; and let him \nnot be surprised if on some other occasion he \nshould hear there Protestant Handel instead of \nCatholic Mozart. For music is more catholic than \nall the churches, — the faithful, many-sided ser- \nvant of the human heart ; and whatsoever is good \nmusic is a harmony and help to what is most re- \nligious, loving, and profound in human souls, whether \nit was born on Catholic or heretic or even on a \nheathen soil. \n\n\" And this is all our answer to the charge of cut- \nting a sublime thing out of its appropriate setting. \nDoubtless a whole mass would be better than a \npiece of one, a full choir and an organ would be \nbetter than a quartette and a pianoforte, and a cathe- \ndral, with its solemn lights and aisles, would be the \nfitting complement of such high strains. This none \ncould feel more clearly than the persons who are \ndrawn towards this music by its own intrinsic \nbeauty and expressiveness. But because we can- \nnot have all, may we not have a part? Is there no \nintrinsic meaning and beauty in the music by itself .^^ \nIf it inspires the singer and hearer, if it imparts a \n\n\n134 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nwarmth such as cold common psalmody cannot, if \nit lifts the thoughts more nearly to the state which \nwe call worship, if it weaves a spell of holy com- \nmunion round us, why reject it and put up with \nduller things because we cannot have it in the full \nglory of all its accompaniments? As to its being \n* sacrilegiously stolen,' we say this music came from \nMozart and from Haydn, and not from the Roman \nCatholic Church; and it belongs to every soul \nwhich can respond to it, which can appreciate it, \nwhich has states answering to its solemn, cheerful \ntones. It belongs to humanity, to the one church \nuniversal which is not yet, but which waits until \nhumanity be one. For music is a universal lan- \nguage : it knows nothing of opinions, creeds, and \ndoctrines that divide. It knows only the heart of \nthe whole matter, which is one. It speaks to hearts, \nto that which all men have in common, and in \ncherishing which resides our only hope of unity, our \nonly hope of ever seeing a truly catholic and uni- \nversal church. In Christ we hear a kindred lan- \nguage ; and by a natural and worthy correspondence \ndo associationists commune together in the thought \nof Christ, and in the atmosphere of music, which is \nboth human and divine, as he was.\" \n\nImmediately after leaving Brook Farm, Dwight \nbegan to write on musical topics for the Daily \nChroiiotype, edited and published by Elizur Wright. \nHis work was that of giving an account of concerts \nand other musical entertainments, reviewing new \nmusic, and writing articles on special topics of \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 135 \n\nmusical interest. During the year 1849 he did the \nsame kind of work for the Daily Advertiser, \n\nWhen the Harbinger came to an end, early in \n1849, Dwight was ready to continue his efforts for \nassociation, and made an arrangement for conduct- \ning a department In that interest In the Daily \nChronotype of Boston. In the number of that paper \nfor Aug. 23, 1849, the editor of this one-cent daily \nsaid, \" By an arrangement with some friends of so- \ncial reform we have given up to them the control \nof three columns on the first page. For the con- \ntents of them they alone are responsible. Their \nsentiments, we have every reason to believe, will \ncorrespond with our own ; but we shall hold our- \nselves at perfect liberty to combat them when we \nsee fit.\" \n\nAmong those Dwight was able to gather about \nhim to assist him in this work were W. H. Chan- \nning, W. F. Channing, C. A. Dana, and Albert \nBrisbane. Poetry was furnished by C. P. Cranch \nand others. Dwight translated Victor Consider- \nant's \" Attractive Industry, or else the Slavery of \nthe Masses.\" Among other topics on which he \nwrote were workingmen as their own employers, \nFourier's writings, Hungary, systems of socialism, \nprotective unions for workingmen, and dilettante- \nism as opposed to the interests of the people. \nThe statement of purposes in the first number \nwas written by Dwight, and some parts of it are \nworthy of notice as a summary of his opinions on \nthe subject of association. \n\n\n136 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n\" We mean that the great social problems of the \ntimes,\" he wrote, \" the problem of labor and of a \ntrue society based upon labor rightly organized, \nshall have some justice done in these columns. . . . \nWe propose to present a fair, kindly, and intelli- \ngent account of the great socialistic movement in \nall branches, to note all progress in the science and \nthe practice of domestic and industrial association, \nto show the symptoms everywhere about us of the \napproach of the whole toiling and producing mul- \ntitude to an era. of complete and universal mutual- \nism or guarantism, and, finally, to trace the several \nmovements to the end in which they all converge ; \nnamely, to labor made attractive in complete asso- \nciation. \n\n\" We are disposed to take the name of socialist \nfor better or for worse, and challenge all the world \nto prove that there can be a better Christian, a \ntruer friend of order, a more sincere respecter of \nthe rights of property and family, a more delicately \ncareful guardian of every individuality and every \nsacred sphere of life, than is the genuine socialist \nwho feels and understands his reconciling mission. \nHe asks for guaranties of much more such protec- \ntion to these principles than civilized society af- \nfords. He sees that, after all, there is no property \nsecure, no union lasting, no family sacred, no indi- \nviduality consulted, no true education possible, save \nby the happiest fortune of a few in a society whose \nspring is competition, and whose only order is the \nblind resultant of old anarchy that proves itself \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 137 \n\neven now too strong for its governing principle of \nforce. He feels that there is a common life which \nsets through all humanity, and that humanity col- \nlectively ; in other words, society on this globe \nmust first be set in order before the individual can \nbe himself or know the meaning of the Christian \ncommunion with his neighbor and with God. He \nasks himself what it is that interests all men most \nwidely, that silently creeps under the political bar- \nriers of nations, that understands itself in every lan- \nguage, and knits the widest and most complex \nrelations between the people of all countries, con- \ntrolling every legislature, cabinet, and throne. It \nis the industry and commerce by which wealth is \ncreated and distributed. This of itself can weave \na brotherhood of nations and transform any despot- \nism, but only on one grand condition, — only on \ncondition that the principle of laissez-faire or com- \npetition, by which it now tends to industrial Van- \ndalism, shall be made to give place to association, \nwhich shall reconcile all interests and open oppor- \ntunities to all. \n\n\" We are associationists, but we are not ' promis- \ncuous aggressionists.' We believe in an organic \nsolidarity, a harmony, and not in a confusion of in- \nterests. We believe a true society should guarantee \nthe ' right to labor,' without which every other right \nis futile ; but we do not believe in public bounties \nupon idleness, — the right to labor, but not neces- \nsarily the duty of interference by the State, which \nmay be left to times and places. Meanwhile our \n\n\n138 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhope is strongest in the power of the laborers them- \nselves by peacefully associating their industry to \nguarantee to one another this right in its fulness. \n\n*' We believe in individual property. We are \nnot communists. Organization of labor will enrich \nall, as no rash spoliation or division ever could. \nWe hold the laborer entitled to the fruits of his \nown earnings, and that the employer will be the \ngainer by making him a partner in the profits of \nthe production. We believe that labor, capital, and \nskill, all three have rights, and must not be denied \nremuneration. We are not for withholding interest \non capital, however it may bring us at issue with \nsome schools of socialism. We are of the party of \npeace. Our watchword is the peaceful transforma- \ntion of the subversive, false societies of competition \ninto the co-operative society of unity and harmony \nunder God's perfect code of love. \n\n\" We are not red republicans. We have no \nsympathy with the red banner. Nor do we believe \nthat the spirit and tendency of socialism has been \nanything but peaceful. Indeed, socialism altogether \nis a peaceful protest against the red rule of force, \nby which the privileged party of the past alone \nmaintains its sway. . . . \n\n** Are we, then, masters of a social science, that \nwe are emboldened to address ourselves to such a \nmighty task of reconciliation } . . . Frankly, we be- \nlieve we hold the key to it. It is our privilege to \nbe born into a time when some of the great har- \nmonies of such a reconciling law have been struck, \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 139 \n\nand our ears did not chance to be closed against \nthem. A work of years, it may be, and of many \nminds united to show the full and fair proportions \nof the social science, to state in all its length and \nbreadth, and all its infinite beauty of detail and \nspecial application, God's law of harmonic society \non earth. But the only way — and to evade it \nwould be treason to our souls — is to trust, and fol- \nlow up such glimpses as we have. And we say that \neven now, in the confused whirl of noisy and im- \npatient opinions which bears the name of socialism, \nthere is mixed up some of the serenest wisdom \nwhich ever visited the human soul. There are \nclear outlines, benign intimations caught by some \nsouls in the movement of a law, a science which \nshall reconcile all interests, all parties, do away all \nterrors, and effect a peaceful transition out of these \nages of industrial competition, with its attendant \ntrain of poverty, ignorance, crime, war, slavery, and \ndisease, into an age of universal co-operation, union, \ncompetence, refinement, peace, and Perfect Liberty \nwith Perfect Order. u , ^ ^^ \" \n\nThis venture did not prove a success, and the \narrangement was continued only for a few months. \nThe publishers of the Chro7iotype were not able or \nwilling to carry out their part of the agreement. \nVarious other plans were discussed by Dwight and \nhis friends, but nothing came of them. In the \nmean time his interest in association did not abate, \nand he was one of the most active workers in the \n\n\nI40 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nBoston Union of Associationists. He gave much \ntime to its meetings and to keeping the organiza- \ntion in a healthy condition. He helped to provide \nmusic, to organize entertainments, and to make the \nmeetings attractive. He was a leader in celebrat- \ning the birthday of Fourier each year in April, \nsecuring music, writing toasts, preparing the pro- \ngramme, and making the meetings a success. Two \nof the toasts prepared by him for the celebration \nof 1849 may here be given as indicative of his atti- \ntude towards the social problems of the day : — \n\n\" To Joy ! to Liberty ! to Childhood's Mirth ! to \nYouth's Enthusiasm ! to the warm life-thrill of At- \ntraction felt through every fibre of existence ! The \ntimes are coming — the Harmonic Times of Unity \nand Love — when the Passions in their purity shall \nprove themselves divine; when Liberty shall not \nbe license, nor amusement folly; when every fac- \nulty, the humblest as the highest, shall find supreme \ndelight in Uses ; when Labor shall be Play ; and \nJoy and Beauty crown the works of men. Let \nrhythmic feasts and songs and dances still renew \nthe prophecy of the Harmonic Times ! \" \n\n\"The Wrongs and Hopes of Labor! Long \nhas been its martyrdom. A year ago the sounds \nof its deliverance in the Old World pealed across \nthe ocean into the midst of our festival. The \nstruggle outwardly has been in vain. Still thou- \nsands starve in Ireland. Still, goaded to madness, \nthe impatient crowds rising to claim their rights \nhave been shot down. But not in vain has been \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 141 \n\ntheir martyrdom. A peaceful deliverance is nigh. \nThe spirit of God is moving in this age in the in- \nstinct of association. Its ways are devious, frag- \nmentary, many. But they will all unite, and indus- \ntry be organized, and man be free and honored in \nhis functions by his brother man.\" \n\nDuring this period Dwight was in demand as a \nlecturer on musical subjects. In 1850 and in 185 1 \nhe furnished to Sartains Magazine of Philadelphia \na monthly article on some musical topic, and each \narticle was accompanied by a popular piece of mu- \nsic selected by him. He wrote frequently for a \nmusical journal published in New York, and called \nthe Messe7iger Bird. He contributed to other pub- \nlications on the great composers and their works, or \non current subjects connected with music. During \nthe first six months of 185 1 he was the musical \neditor of the Boston Commonwealth, In this con- \nnection the following letter may find a place: — \n\nWest Newton^ Nov. 23, '51. \nMy dear Sir, — I understand that you wish to \nascertain, on Mr. Sartain's behalf, whether I could \nsupply him with an article for his magazine. It so \nhappens that I have recently written a story, and \nhave it now on hand. As regards the important \npoint of remuneration, Gresham made an offer a \nyear since of one hundred dollars for an article ; and \nI suppose (but am not quite certain) that his pro- \nposal would still hold good. Dr. Bailey, of the \nNational Era, has likewise offered me the same \n\n\n142 \"^JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nsum. I should prefer to publish the story In a \nmagazine rather than a newspaper; and on this \naccount, and because I do not know whether \nGresham wants the article now, I would let Mr. \nSartain have it at the above-named price. \n\nIf it will increase the value of the article, Mr. Sar- \ntain may be assured that I shall not write anything \nelse for the magazines at present, being about to en- \ngage in a large work. \n\nVery truly yours, \n\nNathaniel Hawthorne. \n\nP.S. — I am established here for the winter, and \nit would give Mrs. Hawthorne and myself much \npleasure to see you. \n\nDuring the years 1850 and 185 1 Dwight seri- \nously discussed a removal to New York, and the \nconnection of himself with the Tribune. His \nfriends Ripley and Dana had secured for them- \nselves places on that newspaper, and they wished \nto have his aid as a coworker. Ripley urged his \nmaking the venture of joining the staff of the \npaper, and making for himself a permanent place \nthere. In February, 1850, Ripley wrote to him: \n\" We stand in the greatest need of you here, how- \never little you may need New York or anything \nthat therein is. You can not come too soon.\" \n\nIn September, Ripley wrote, urging his friend to \ncome to New York at once and begin work ; but \nno definite remuneration was guaranteed. A little \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 143 \n\nlater he and Dana made an effort to secure a place \nfor Dwight on the Herald, and Parke Godwin \nthe next year endeavored to connect him with the \nEvening Post, Dwight seems to have tried the \nwork on the Tribune for a short period, but it \nevidently was not wholly to his liking. During \nthe year 185 1 Ripley secured the promise of publi- \ncation, by J. S. Redfield, of New York, of a bi- \nography of Mozart which Dwight was then prepar- \ning. In October of that year Dwight wrote from \nNew York to his brother : \" As to the Mozart book, \nI have almost decided to let Mason & Law^ pub- \nlish it. They offer me ten per cent, on all sales, \nand wish to stereotype and bring out the whole at \nonce in two volumes, say in July or August.\" This \nwork was not published, probably owing to the fact \nthat Dwight soon gave his attention to the publica- \ntion of a musical journal in Boston. \n\nJohn S. Dwight and Mary Bullard were married \nFeb. 12, 185 1, by Rev. W. H. Channing. Miss \nBullard was a frequent visitor at Brook Farm. She \nwas a member of the choir of the Religious Union \nof Associationists, and she was an active worker \nwith Dwight in all his efforts to keep alive the \nBoston Union of Associationists. From 1849 \nhe had been living in Pinckney Street, an inmate \nof the house of Mrs. Parsons, who, with her \ndaughters, was a member of the Union of Associa- \ntionists. Here Miss Bullard also had her home, \nhere they were married, and in the same house they \nremained for several months after this event. In \n\n\n144 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n1853 they rented a house in Charles Street, near \nCambridge Street; and here they resided for sev- \neral years. \n\nMary Bullard was a beautiful, winning, unselfish \nwoman, a fine singer, and a person of many attrac- \ntions of body and mind. She had a serene and \ncharming face, was a fine talker, and had a most \ncrracious and attractive manner. At Brook Farm \nher coming was hailed with delight by all ; for she \nwas a superior singer, and she lent herself pleas- \nantly to all the interests of the place. A Brook \nFarmer says that \"she was vivacious, quick, and \nsprightly ; was fond of conversation, but, no matter \nhow trivial the subject of discourse, it grew into \nearnestness in her mind, unless she was wholly play- \nful. But her chief distinction was her love and \ntalent for music, and in the capacity of beautiful \nsinger she was first introduced to us.\" At the farm \nshe was known as \"the Nightingale,\" because of \nher gifts as a singer. By this name Ripley men- \ntions her in his letters to Dwight, and by that of \n\" die lieblichste.\" One of her intimate friends has \nwritten of her : \" Mary was a lovely person for a \nhousemate. She was frank, outspoken, but always \njust and harmonious.\" William H. Channing said \nthat, without being morbid, she was the most thor- \noughly conscientious person he ever knew. \n\nThe five years which had now passed since Brook \nFarm closed had been years of struggle and disap- \npointment for Dwight. They had also been years \nof poverty and failure. He had tried many things, \n\n\nA TIME OF EXPERIMENTS 145 \n\nhad struggled hard to find a permanent place, and \nall had ended with small results. His marriage had \nbeen delayed through four or five years for these \nreasons, and was entered upon with few prospects \nfor the immediate future. At last he was to find \nthe place for which he was fitted ; and, though it \ndid not give him much money, it did give him \ncongenial employment and a task suited to his \ngenius. \n\n\nCHAPTER VI. \n\"DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC.\" \n\nThe reason why Dwight did not connect himself \nwith the Tribune was doubtless because he had an \nambition for a periodical of his own, to be devoted \nexclusively to music and to be entirely under his \nown control. Early in the year 185 1 that project \nhad taken definite shape in his own mind, and he \nwrote to Ripley in detail of his plan. He proposed \nto secure a guarantee fund that would enable him \nto carry the paper on for one year without loss, to \nbecome both publisher and editor, and to devote \nhis paper entirely to music and the kindred arts. \nRipley objected to his undertaking to act as his \nown publisher, and the taking any responsibility of \na personal character which would involve financial \nloss to himself. \" You will not bother yourself, I \nhope,\" Ripley wrote, \" by incurring any personal \nresponsibilities on the strength of anticipated sub- \nscriptions. The friends of music should shoulder \nthe burden, raise the money, while you give to it \nthe aid of your talents and taste.\" \n\nThis advice was taken so far as securing a guar- \nantee fund was concerned, and the next year was \ndevoted to obtaining the aid of those interested in \nthe project. In February, 1852, the plan was so \nfar matured that a circular was prepared by Dwight, \nsetting forth his purposes in establishing a musical \njournal of a superior character. How he proposed \nto conduct it he stated in these words : — \n\n\n\"DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 147 \n\n\" The tone to be impartial, independent, catholic, \nconciliatory, aloof from musical clique and contro- \nversy, cordial to all good things, but not eager to \nchime in with any powerful private interest of pub- \nlisher, professor, concert-giver, manager, society, or \nparty. This paper would make itself the ' organ ' \nof no school or class, but simply an organ of what \nmay be called the Musical Movement in our coun- \ntry, of the growing love of deep and genuine music, \nof the growing consciousness that music, first amid \nother forms of Art, is intimately connected with \nMan's truest life and destiny. It will insist much \non the claims of ' Classical ' music, and point \nout its beauties and its meanings, not with a pe- \ndantic partiality, but because the endurhig needs \nalways to be held up in contrast with the epheme- \nral. But it will also aim to recognize what good \nthere is in styles more simple, popular, or modern, \nwill give him who is Italian in his tastes an equal \nhearing with the German, and will even print the \narticles of those opposed to the partialities or the \nopinions of the editor, provided they be written \nbriefly, decently, and to the point.\" \n\nIn this effort to establish an independent journal, \ndevoted to the interests of music, Dwight had the \nactive support and co-operation of the Harvard \nMusical Association. He brought his project before \nthat society at the annual meeting of 1852, which \nwas held in January ; and, at a special meeting held \nin February, measures were taken to afford him \nsuch aid as he needed. The securing of the guar- \n\n\n148 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nantee fund was in considerable degree due to the \nco-operation of the members; and he had their \nefficient help in procuring subscribers, as well as in \ngetting the business details of the paper into work- \ning order. So long as the paper was published, the \nassociation stood by him, and gave him its active \nsupport. \n\n\" Be not startled at my prospectus,\" Dwight \nwrote to Cranch, \"but try to get me ten names \nupon it, and mail it back to me in a few days. You \nsee I am bent on establishing a journal of music \nand aesthetic matters, which shall be my own. I am \nsick of writing off and on for other people, for unre- \nliable publishers, etc. I propose to print a small \nweekly paper, — say eight quarto pages, — without \nprinted music, but filled with notices of concerts, \ncomposers, musical publications, etc., essays on \nstyles, analyses of compositions, with some brief \nnotices of other arts, and a small sprinkling of \noriginal poems, songs, tales, etc. Now in this last \nyou perhaps can help me. Send me a little poem \nor two of yours. I should like one for the first \nnumber. I shall have to rely on friendship for all \nmy variety, since it will take a year or more to make \nthe paper pay for itself. But I shall not start intil \nI am guaranteed for one year against debt, partly \nby a guarantee fund of fifteen hundred to two thou- \nsand dollars (which some moneyed friends of music \nhere are organizing), and partly by such subscrip- \ntion list as I can raise in a couple of weeks by these \npapers. The Harvard Musical Association took \n\n\n'^DWIGHrs JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 149 \n\nthe plan up warmly at the annual supper (when \nyour note was read), and are to have another meet- \ning about it next week. If each member will get \nme ten subscribers, it will make five hundred at \nonce. I shall want some letters, too, from New \nYork about the concerts and operas there. Will \nnot the spirit move you occasionally ? \n\n\" If you see the Howadji, can you not enlist his \nactive sympathies a little in my cause? A letter \nnow and then from him on music or other art \nwould be a feather in the cap of my enterprise. It \nis my last, desperate (no very confident) grand \ncotip d'etat to try and get a living ; and I call on all \ngood powers to help me launch the ship, or, rather, \nlittle boat.\" \n\nThe name to be given the new journal called for \nmuch of consideration. Dwight objected to the \nuse of his own name as a part of that of the paper, \nnot liking to hear persons say that \" Harper s has \ncome,\" and decidedly objected to the statement \nthat '' Dwighfs has come.\" Curtis wrote him that \nhe had submitted the problem to the editorial coun- \ncil of the Tribune^ and that the conclusion was he \nshould call the paper \" D wight's Musical Journal,\" \nwith the sub-title, \" A paper of Art and Litera- \nture.\" To Longfellow, Dwight wrote for contribu- \ntions and for suggestions as to the name. \n\nCambridge^ March 25, 1852. \n\nDear Dwight, — I should have been more rapid in \nmy reply to your friendly note if I had had anything \n\n\n150 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nto send you which would make my answer agree- \nable. But, since I have taken to writing long \npoems, I have given up writing short ones ; and I \nfind I have nothing which I should be willing to \npublish. \n\nBut much more important is the name you may fix \nupon. \" Pon lo tuyo en consejo, uno te dira que es \nbianco, otro que es bermejo,\" says the Spanish prov- \nerb, and I have always found it true. I agree with \nyou in thinking the simpler the better. Why not, \nthen, say \" Musical Journal,\" and no more, without \ntroubling yourself about a second title ? No one \ncan object to that, I fancy. \n\nSpeaking about this with Batchelder the other \nday, I made the same suggestion that the Howadji \nmade. But I feel your personal objections, and \nnow make the proposition to retain only two words \nout of three. Yours truly, \n\nHenry W. Longfellow. \n\n\nFinally, the name settled upon was \" Dwight's \nJournal of Music : A Paper of Art and Literature.\" \nThe first number was dated April lo, 1852, but was \nissued several weeks earlier. This number began \nwith the prospectus, and was followed by a \" Son- \nnet to my Piano,\" by C. P. Cranch ; a short article \non Jenny Lind's devotion to her art ; a letter about \nmusic in New York, signed by \" Hafiz,\" — in other \nwords, George W. Curtis ; a letter on the Music \nHall then being erected in Boston ; and reviews of \n\n\n\"DWIGHrs JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 15 1 \n\nbooks. Much space was given to music in Boston ; \nand the musical news of Paris, Italy, England, and \nGermany, was reported. The \" Introductory \" was \nan earnest and explicit statement of the purposes of \nthe new journal, in part restating what has already \nbeen given, and adding some personal considera- \ntions which may be given here, because of its hon- \nest recognition of his own strong interest in music, \nand the limitations under which he labored in de- \nsiring to promote its interests. \n\n\" Without being in any sense a thoroughly edu- \ncated musician either in theory or practice, we have \nfound ourselves, as long as we could remember, \nfull of the appeal which this most mystical and yet \nmost human art — so perfectly intelligible to feeling, \nif not to the understanding — has never ceased to \nmake to us. From childhood there was an intense \ninterest and charm to us in all things musical. \nThe rudest instrument and most hackneyed player \nthereof seemed invested with a certain halo and \nsaving grace, as it were, from a higher, purer, and \nmore genial atmosphere than this of our cold, self- \nish, humdrum world. We could not sport with \nthis, and throw it down like common recreation. \nIt spoke a serious language to us, and seemed to \nchallenge study of its strange, important meanings, \nlike some central oracle of oldest and still newest \nwisdom. And this at a time when the actual world \nof music lay in the main remote from us, shooting \nonly now and then some stray vibrations over into \nthis western hemisphere. We felt that music must \n\n\n152 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhave some most intimate connection with the so- \ncial destiny of Man, and that, if- we but knew it, \nit concerns us all. \n\n\" A few years have passed, and now this is a \ngeneral feeling. Music is a feature in the earnest \nlife and culture of advanced American society. \nIt enters into all our schemes of education. It \nhas taken the initiative as the popular art /^r ^jr- \ncellence in gradually attempering this whole people \nto the sentiment of Art. And whoever reflects \nupon it must regard it as a most important saving \ninfluence in this rapid expansion of our democratic \nlife. Art, and especially Music, is a true conserva- \ntive element, in which Liberty and Order are both \nfully typed and made beautifully perfect in each \nother. A free people must be rhythmically edu- \ncated in the whole tone and temper of their daily \nlife ; must be taught the instinct of rhythm and \nharmony in all things, in order to be fit for freedom. \nAnd it is encouraging, amid so many dark and \nwild signs of the times, that this artistic sentiment \nis beginning to ally itself with our progressive en- \nergies, and make our homes too beautiful for ruth- \nless change.\" \n\nAt the end of the year the editor made a hope- \nful report, saying that he had not accomplished \nas much as he desired, but all that seemed possi- \nble under the circumstances. He said that the \npaper paid its own way, but that \"the editor's \nremuneration, beyond the barest minimum, is in \nthe future.\" \" When we commenced,\" he said, \n\n\n\"DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 153 \n\n\" there were not a few to warn us that we under- \ntook a perilous and almost impossible voyage ; but \nthere were believing friends that helped to provi- \nsion and insure the ship. Our success has not been \nbrilliant; but we have got decently through, and \nwith such encouraging response from those whose \ngood opinion we most valued that we feel small \nfear for the future.\" \n\nThe contents of the paper during this first year \nwere notable, as they continued to be to the end \nof the last volume published. The editor himself \ncarefully, sympathetically, and yet fearlessly re- \nviewed the music of Boston during the year. His \nreports were not mere newspaper chroniclings, but \nintelligent and appreciative studies of the music \nof the day and the way in which it was presented \nto the public. Next in importance was the pres- \nentation of the art of music through translations \nfrom leading writers and journals. In the third \nnumber began a series of articles by Franz Liszt \non Frederic Chopin, translated by the editor from \nthe German. A study of Weber's \" Der Frei- \nschlitz,\" by Hector Berlioz, was also translated, as \nwell as critical accounts of Berlioz's latest musical \nwork. In an early number was begun the publi- \ncation of A. Oulibicheff' s \" Life and Times of Mo- \nzart,\" a work of great merit by a Russian. This \nwas the book on Mozart about which Dwight \nwas negotiating with publishers the year before. \nThe greater part of it appeared in the Journal \nof Music, being continued through several years. \n\n\n154 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nNumerous other translations appeared from Ger- \nman, French, and Italian writers on music. In \nthis connection it may be stated that Wagner was \nmentioned in the first volume, — six months, — and \nthat much notice was taken of him in the second. \nThree long- articles were devoted to a statement of \nwhat was then known of him,- — his life, theories, \nand music. No less than three translations from \nhis own writings were given, and four or five ar- \nticles by leading German or English writers on mu- \nsical subjects. The same breadth and generosity \nof treatment appeared in his other selections and \ntranslations. In all the matter of this kind which \nhe published, his aim was educative and catholic; \nand it was of a sort calculated to bring the reader \ninto closest sympathy with the best in music, and \nwith the aims and spirit of the great masters who \nmost truly represented this most emotional and \nspiritual of the arts. \n\nThe list of contributors to the Journal of Music \nwas not a long one, for the editor was not able to \npay more than a mere pittance for even the best \narticles. For two or three years George W. Curtis \nwrote occasionally from New York. So long as \nthe paper was published, Cranch was an occasional \ncontributor of poems ; and here for the first time \nappeared many of the best of his shorter pieces. \nRev. Charles T. Brooks was also wont to send to \nDwight his lyrical outpourings, many of which \nfound the public in {\\\\q Journal. It may be said \nthat this paper was notable for its poetical selec- \n\n\n\"DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 155 \n\ntions, every number usually having two or three of \nthe best short poems of the day. Another feature \nof the paper was its correspondence from all the \nmusic centres of Europe, and its careful selection \nof the musical intelligence of the day. From all \nAmerican cities where there was any interest in \nmusic came full reports, and several able writers \non music were in this way trained to their work as \nmusic interpreters and critics. One of the most \nfrequent contributors to the Journal in this way \nwas Alexander W. Thayer, who began by sending \nnews notes from New York. For several years he \ncontributed his thoughts on musical topics under \nthe title of \" From my Diary,\" which attracted \nmuch attention ; and he came to be known as \" The \nDiarist.\" A later series of his contributions were \nreprinted in book form. He spent several years in \nEurope, — was the United States consul at Trieste, \nand published the most important life of Beet- \nhoven which has appeared. He contributed to \nthe Journal more largely, and for a longer period, \nthan any other person except the editor. \n\nAnother frequent writer was Frances Malone \nRaymond, who afterwards became Mrs. Frederic \nRitter. To early volumes of the Jotirnal she sent \npoems, music criticisms, and translations ; and her \nconnection with it continued to the end. She has \npublished many volumes on music, including a \ntranslation of Robert Schumann's \" Music and \nMusicians,\" and original works on \" Some Famous \nSongs \" and \" Troubadours and Minnesingers.\" \n\n\n156 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nHer volumes of poetry include \" Madrigals \" and \n\" Songs and Ballads.\" Dr. Frederic L. Ritter was \na contributor to some of the later volumes. Mr. \nW. S. B. Matthews, now the editor of Music, an \nable monthly published in Chicago, wrote often \nduring the later years of the Jour^iaVs history. \n\nIn turning over the volumes of the Journal of \nMusic to-day, one is impressed with the variety and \nhigh character of its contents. Its excellent literary \nquality appears on every page, as well as the pro- \nfound love of art in its musical form everywhere \nmanifested by the editor. The twenty volumes in \nwhich it is bound make an almost complete ency- \nclopaedia of music, so wide is the range of interest \nshown, and so catholic are the appreciations dis- \nplayed. This statement will seem to be quite out \nof harmony with the criticism often made, that \nDwight cared only for German music, and that of \nthe older schools. It may be granted that his taste \nwas formed before the newer schools came into \nvogue, and that he was intensely German in his \npreferences. It is thoroughly true, however, that in \nhis selections and translations he took the widest \nrange, and that he thus gave every school an oppor- \ntunity to speak for itself to his readers. No one \ncould have been more generous towards Wagner, for \ninstance, who occupies a large space in the Journal, \nnot only with extensive translations from his own \nwritings, but with the commendations of his ad- \nmirers. It is true that the other side is presented, \nand that the editor gives his own opinions honestly \n\n\n\"DWIGHTS JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 157 \n\nand without reserve ; but let it be noted that he is \nmost generous in his recognition of the music of \nWagner and of his theories. He did not Hke the \nmusic; and he did not agree with the theories, and \nhe said so plainly, giving good reasons for his dis- \nlikings. He was a candid critic, speaking his own \nmind freely ; but he was an appreciative and a sym- \npathetic critic, as well. \n\nThere can be no doubt that \\h^ Journal of Music \nwould have been a much greater financial success if \nits literary and musical standards had not been so \nhigh. The editor had no gift for appealing to merely \npopular tastes. His standard was of the highest \nkind, and he had no wish or capacity for lowering \nit for the sake of outward success. He took the \ncourse, undoubtedly, which was of the largest benefit \nto music, most truly educative of public taste ; but \nhe appealed to only a limited circle of readers. \nThe paper fixed the musical standard, not only of \nBoston, but of the whole country ; and genuine \nlovers of music turned to its pages as to a supreme \nauthority. \n\nAt no time did ih.^ Jotir7ial 0/ Music givQ Dwight \nmore than the scantiest remuneration for his labor \nbestowed upon it. It tied him down to a life of the \nseverest drudgery, to work he did not love, and \nkept him from that kind of work for music which \nwould have been to him a delight. So scanty was \nthe remuneration which came to the editor that on \ntwo occasions, at the end of the second year of the \nJournal 2ind again at the end of the fourth year. \n\n\n158 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nthe musicians of Boston gave complimentary bene- \nfits to the paper. These were cheering indications \nof the interest taken in it by those best able to \nappreciate its work. On the first occasion the \nmusicians of Boston said to the editor : \" We look \nupon i\\\\^ Journal of Music as an institution which \nit is the interest and duty of all artists to sustain. \nWe owe it a debt for mediating between us and the \npublic, and laboring to raise that public to a fuller \nappreciation of the things we do from our own \nhearts and for the love of art rather than for the \npraise and money of the crowd. We know enough, \ntoo, of the world to know that, in the nature of \nthings, a musical journal, conducted on such high \nprinciples as yours, though sure of fair success in \nthe long run, and not without encouragement thus \nfar, cannot in times like these remunerate its editor \naccording to his labors. We artists would sustain \nit, as in some sense our common organ, as we \nwould a temple or an academy of music, as one of \nthe public instrumentalities for the due furtherance \nof our art.\" \n\nHow keenly Dwight felt the drudgery of much of \nthe work he was compelled to perform as best he \ncould may be seen from some bits of his correspond- \nence. In March, 1856, he wrote to Charles T. \nBrooks, in answer to that friend's request for aid in \nbuying a piano : \" Do not despair of me as a corre- \nspondent. I have not forgotten about the piano, \nalthough I have taken the benefit of your Uhland \npoem. A capital translation it is, too. I must take \n\n\n-DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 159 \n\na little more time to look about among the pianos. \nFor the last two or three weeks I have been so \nbeset and harassed by my miserable /^//r^^^/ — es- \npecially the many matters thereto pertaining — that \nI could think of nothing else. Besides lack of \ntime, too, I have lack of quiet, lack of clearness and \neffective movement, lack of brains. These latter \nseem to be getting ' muddled ' in the old cocoanut ; \nbut the warm spring sun and running rivulets (of \nmelting snow in the gutters) promise peace and \nsense of freedom. \n\n\" I was surprised and greatly interested to hear \nof your ' Faust ' labor. Verily, it must have been \na great work ; and I trust it will be rewarded. I am \nanxious to see it, and shall hint to some of our pub- \nlishers. If Ticknor relucts, I think it quite pos- \nsible that Phillips & Sampson would like the \nglory of such an enterprise, and turn it to profit, \ntoo, as readily as anybody. I will speak to their \nliterary partner, with whom I am well acquainted. \nWill you pardon, and yet have patience with, yours \ntruly .? \" \n\nAt the very end of the same year Christopher P. \nCranch, in a letter written from Paris, said to \nDwight : \" As to yourself, my dear fellow, I grieve \nthat you must grind and grind, and still be poor ; for \nyou haven't even a poor painter's eternal satisfac- \ntion of attractive labor to put in the other scale \nagainst poverty. It is a hard thing, if a man must \nmake a machine of himself, that he can't accom- \nplish a machine's work, and coin money with his \n\n\ni6o JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ncranks, wheels, and pistons; for dollars stand in \nthe relation to this incessant intellectual grinding \nthat the future life does to this. What's it all for, \nunless there's a crown of glory waiting for us? I \nwish to heavens you could step out of your ' tread- \nmill,' as you call it. Isn't there a fat professorship \nsomewhere in reserve for you } That w^ould be the \nthing for you. I find it a devilish hard case that \na man of your powers and acquirements shouldn't \nbe seized upon and chaired with huzzas, and floated \nover the people's heads into some academic or other \nthrone. You ought to have a larger sweep than \nyou have with your musical, critical, literary broom ; \nand I don't see why Boston and Cambridge don't \nopen its eyes and its purse to the fact.\" \n\nIn October, 1856, Alexander W. Thayer wrote in \nthis wise : \" It will wear you all out to go on this \nway ; and I want you, at all events, to get so situ- \nated that you can think out your thoughts and give \nthem to us fresh and full. Take up with almost \nany terms, I should say, at least for a certain length \nof time. Courage, if possible.\" \n\nThis refers to negotiations with Oliver Ditson & \nCo. for them to become the publishers of the \n/ournal of Music, Such arrangement was soon \nmade ; and with the beginning of the sixth year, in \nApril, 1859, that firm relieved D wight of the drudg- \nery of being his own publisher and office clerk. \nThis enterprising and well-established firm of \nmusic-sellers and publishers took the entire respon- \nsibility of the publication of the paper, giving to \n\n\n\"DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" i6i \n\nDwight the full control of its editorial management, \nleaving him free to conduct it in his own way. \nThe paper was to remain the same in size, price, \nand in other details, the publishers adding such ad- \nvertising pages as they desired; and they paid \nDwight twelve hundred dollars a year as salary. \nSuch compensation was miserably small ; but it gave \na regular income, paid weekly, and the arrange- \nment enabled Dwight to devote himself more un- \nreservedly to the higher interests of his journal. \nIn announcing the new arrangement in the \nJournal of Music, the editor said : \" Ever since we \nstarted it we have united all the functions of editor, \nbusiness manager, clerk, collector, and paymaster \nin our own person. This has been a heavy weight, \nfull of untold annoyances, and sadly interfering \nwith the full and free carrying out of those very \neditorial ideals which we had most at heart. \nNeither in the high sense nor in the popular sense, \nneither to the exacting few nor to the many who \nrequire ' milk for babes ' in art, has our paper been \nall it would have been, had cares of business left us \nmore free hours for thinking out and serving up all \nthe right varieties of matter. Of this shortcoming \nno one has been more conscious than ourselves. \nOur main reliance, meanwhile, has been in the evi- \ndence of true intention, in the spirit of impartial \nloyalty to art which, we are assured, has first and \nlast shone clearly through the columns, and in such \nnot altogether hopeless approximation to our de- \nsign as, with the aid of noble helpers and con- \n\n\ni62 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ntributors, we have, in spite of all, been enabled to \nmake. Now we shake off the business chains, and \nshall be more free to think and feel and write and \nseek welcome and instructive access to the sympa- \nthies of a much larger circle of friends.\" \n\nThe paper went on much as it had done before, \nbut the work of the editor was easier and much \nmore satisfactory. He found in some degree the \nleisure he had desired, and the improved quality of \nthe paper showed this result. The paper was more \nwidely circulated, and became more truly an au- \nthority in everything musical. One new feature \nwas the addition of music to each number. This \nwas printed by itself, and had no distinct connec- \ntion with the paper. In selecting this music, \nDwight exercised his superior taste, so far as pos- \nsible, and sent out nothing which was not of the \nhighest merit. During the first year the selections \nwere taken from Mendelssohn, Schubert, Bach, \nBellini, Wagner, Gluck, Donizetti, Mozart, and \nAlfred Jaell. Compositions of length were pub- \nlished in parts, \" Don Giovanni \" being issued in \nthis way during 1859, and \" Der Freischlitz \" during \ni860. A considerable number of the great works \nwere in this way sent to the subscribers to the \nJour7ial of Music. \n\nA few personal letters will more clearly indicate \nhow busy was Dwight's life at this period, and how \ngreatly he enjoyed the few days of leisure which he \nwas able to secure during each year. In the sum- \nmer he was able to get away for a few days to \n\n\n\"DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 163 \n\nNorth Conway, where his friend, Mr. F. W. Chan- \nning, placed a charmingly located house at his dis- \nposal, or he went to visit friends other few days in \nNewport. \n\nIn June, 1854, D wight received this rather sur- \nprising letter from Lowell, who said : \" It has oc- \ncurred to some of your friends that you might find \nyour account in establishing something of this \nsort, — a bureau for governesses. Don't you see ? \nThere is a great and constant demand for them, \nand they as constantly are asking to be taken ; but \nneither wanter nor wantee get to hear of each \nother. Now the kindly office I propose for you is \nto take these wandering hooks and unite them \nwith the forlorn eyes that somewhere await them. \n\n\" Applications are constantly made to teachers \nby both hooks and eyes ; but, owing to want of \nresponsibility and system, everything is at loose \nends. You could have a book in which the name \nof the applicant, the date of application, and the \nnames of references, etc., could be entered, and \nthen act as hooker, receiving a proper commission. \nYou could advertise at first in other journals, but \nby degrees could make your own paper the exclu- \nsive bulletin for such matters. \n\n\" I am certain from what I hear and know that, \nwith no great trouble to yourself, you might make \na profitable business, and be thanked all round \ninto the bargain. I am in an immense hurry just \nnow, but I will only add that character and every- \nthing of that sort make you just the man.\" \n\n\ni64 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nThis letter evidently puzzled Dwight, as it will \nany one reading it now, as to how much or how \nlittle it meant. Probably it was Lowell's purpose \nto suggest something like a \" teachers' agency,\" and \nthat he was quite sincere in the advice he gave. \nNo one could have been less fitted for such a task \nthan Dwight, and he was already too m.uch occu- \npied with similar labors to give him peace of mind \nor body. \n\n\" I really am unable,\" was Dwight's reply, \" to see \nthat I have any calling in the direction you suggest, \n— or that has been suggested to you, — unless it be \na call to earn money by any honest means what- \never, and that with the least possible squeamish- \nness. What should have led anybody to think of \nme in such a connection, I can hardly imagine. I \nam altogether too easily bored (sensitive, selfish, \ntouch-me-not that I am) to wish to be any more of \nan intelligence ofiice than I already involuntarily \nam, as part of the penalty of editing a musical \npaper. I hate so much of the personal go-between- \nism even of the musical world, and would like (if \npossible) to deal with that world more at arm's \nlength instead of having to personally meet so \nmany of the music-teachers and the applicants for \nsuch. If it came to governesses, what should I do.f^ \n\n\" I am surprised to learn, too, that there can be \nany lack of such a medium. How can it be that \nthe wants of society have not already organized the \nmatter? I should think some lady would be most \ncompetent and suitable for such an office. Why \n\n\nn \n\n\nDWIGHTS JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 165 \n\n\nwould not our sister E. P. P.'s back room in West \nStreet be just the place ? \n\n\" I should have written and said all this, in \nanswer to your kind note, before. But first I was \npuzzled, and therefore dumb ; and then I was busy, \nand time flew unawares. Pardon me, will you not ? \nI wish I might see you in Boston, and our How- \nadji with you.\" \n\nIn November of the next year there came to \nDwight this note from George W. Curtis : \" I am \nengaged to Anna Shaw, daughter to Mr. and Mrs. \nFrank. Do you remember her in Brook Farm \ndays ? She was a child then : she is twenty years \nold now. There was never anything that made \nparents and children happier. She is so inexpres- \nsibly dear and beautiful to me that I cannot con- \nceive you should not love her dearly. To outsiders \nshe is a superb and silent Shaw: but her heart is so \ntrue and tender, she is so noble and pure and affec- \ntionate, that you will be afraid to be the friend of \nsuch a Polycrates as I. When do you come to \nNew York ? I so want you to see her and know \nher: then, of course, you will love her. Give my \nlove to your wife. — think that love is not for this \nworld, but forever, — and remember your friend \nwho remembers you.\" \n\nTo this most confidential note Dwight made \nreply : \" Happy friend ! Your little note was the \nray of sunshine in a miserable, hurried week. All \nof us, your friends here, thought it the best of good \nnews, especially I. Believe me, my dear friend, it is \n\n\ni66 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nan event upon which I can heartily congratulate \nyou, and on which I somehow unmisglvingly found \nthe fairest hopes for you. This time I am sure \nthere can be no mistake. I hope you will be mar- \nried soon. \n\n\"You are right, George. Link your destinies \nv/iih you ^/i, I scarcely believe in anything else — \nexcept Spring and Morning. But, then, there is \na way of making these — the soul of them — per- \npetual ; and you have the secret of it, I am sure, \nbetter than most of us. \n\n\" To think of that child, who used to play about \nBrook Farm, and make young master Ally K. \n'stand round,' as the boys say, and go through \nfinger drudgery under my piano - professorship, — \nHeaven save the mark! — the child of our young \nfriends Mr. and Mrs. F. S., — how can you think of \nthem as parents? — being the future Mrs. Howadji! \nor I a dull drudge of an editor. I do wish, indeed, \nto see and know her, and doubt not I shall find \nyour glowing statements all confirmed, and that in \nyour height of joy you need not be ashamed to \n' blush it East and blush it West.' There is a cer- \ntain ' Maud '-like ecstasy in your note that makes \nme think of that. \n\n\" A small bird had already sung the news in my \near. But it was doubly pleasant to have it straight \nfrom you. It was good in you to remember me \nso. I should have written you immediately my \nthanks for that, as well as congratulations on the \ngeneral issue, had I not been overwhelmed with \n\n\n\"DWIGHT'S JOURNAL OF MUSIC\" 167 \n\ncares just then, as I have been since, and sick, \nbesides. But you know I never did catch up with \nthe world's flight, and you can pardon slowness \nto the account of constancy. You were always so \ngood in trusting me through all my silence. It will \nbe very pleasant to associate ' our George ' with our \nfriends the Shaws, whom I have not seen since \ntheir return. Pray commend me cordially to them, \nnot omitting la belle Anna. Would that I might \nsee you in New York! but I must content myself \nwith the not very remote prospect of having you by \nthe hand here. Till then believe me happy in your \nhappiness, and faithfully as ever your friend.\" \n\nOne of D wight's literary friends of this period was \nHenry James, with whose religious opinions he was \nmuch in sympathy. Mrs. Dwight was especially \ninterested in the thought of this mystic thinker, \nso that Dwight said of her, \" James has a church \nof one member, and I am the unbelieving sexton.\" \nA few years later Dwight invited James to his room \nto meet a few friends, and received the following \nrequest: \"Don't, I beg of you, put yourself out to \ninvite any one to meet me to-morrow night. Espe- \ncially, don't invite any literary men purely, like \nHolmes or Woodman, who would keep me from \ntalking, as they have no beliefs in God or man; \nwhile you and I live only by such belief. If any \npublican or sinner of your acquaintance would like \nto come, invite them ; but no saint.\" \n\n\nCHAPTER VII. \nA YEAR IN EUROPE. \n\nEarly in July, i860, Dwight set out for Europe, \nto spend a year in the study of music and in travel. \nHe left the Jotirnal in charge of Henry Ware, a \nyoung journalist of musical and literary tastes ; and \nhe sent to it editorial correspondence during the \ngreater part of his absence. He made but a brief \nstay in England, spent seventeen days in Paris, \nrambled for several days over Switzerland, and then \npushed on to Germany. At Frankfort, October 7, \nthere reached him the startling news of the death \nof his wife, who had been ill almost from the time \nof his leaving Boston, but who had been reported \nto him as nearly well, when he last heard from \nhome. \n\nHe wrote at once to his brother : \" Your two \nletters, September 6 and 11, with many other kind \nletters of dear friends, came upon me all at once \nto-day. I have waited in Munich, in Heidelberg, \nand here for letters until now. The Paris banker \nmust have been at fault. And, oh, what news ! I \nknow not what to say or do. I must break away \nfrom this loneliness. I must get to Bonn, and see \nThayer, and there rest and realize and decide. I \ntake the steamer direct down the Rhine to-morrow. \nOh, with what eyes I shall pass that lovely scenery ! \nThe Rhine ! Dear Frank, how in my heart I thank \nyou for your letter ! It was a true brother's letter, \nand all you say most wise and tender. \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 169 \n\n\" My life is gone from me ! Oh, may God send her \nsweet spirit to visit mine daily, and help me to bear \nthe blow, and become more worthy to have had that \nbeautiful life so long bestowed on me. No more \nnow. Thank all my dear friends for their kind \nwords and their kind acts to Mary. I shall write \nto them in time, but now my eyes are dim and my \nhand trembles.\" \n\nThe story of the wife's illness and death may be \ntold in the words of a letter written by Dr. O. W. \nHolmes, who lived only a few doors away in Charles \nStreet, to the bereaved husband, and dated from \nBoston, November 11: \"I have been wishing for \nmany weeks to write to you, but felt it more fitting \nto wait until I heard from you through your friends. \nI have shed many tears over those letters of yours ; \nand I am sure by the feelings they express that I \ncannot intrude upon you by sending you first of all \nmy tenderest sympathy, and then such few recollec- \ntions as I can add to the story you have heard so \nfully from those who are now nearest to your heart. \nI never knew in my life a more genuine feeling of \nbrotherly love and interest than this affliction called \nforth from all who spoke of it. Be sure that, with \nthe message of grief which took so long to reach \nyou, there went many prayers that God would give \nyou strength to bear your great trial, that your kind \nand gentle soul might bend without breaking under \nthe blow. I think all your friends feel that their \nprayers have been answered, that you have a faith \nand a hope which can support you even in this \n\n\nI70 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nextremity. May God still continue to bless and \ncomfort you with his presence, and may the recol- \nlection of the sweet life you have shared so long be \na light in the midst of this darkening sorrow ! \n\n\" I was walking by to Cambridge Street one morn- \ning, perhaps a week or two after you had gone, \nwhen I noticed that the street for some distance \nwas covered with tan. On Inquiring, I found that \nMrs. Dwight was ill, threatened with a fever, If not \nsuffering from one. At the house I learned that \nshe had been gradually growing weak for some \ntime, with feverish turns, and much nausea, but no \nother very marked symptom that I could hear of, \nthough I asked particularly for those which I most \napprehended. The disease did not seem to excite \nmuch apprehension, except for that one symptom \nof nausea. Perhaps I ought rather to say that not \nmuch apprehension was expressed by those I saw, \nbut a cheerful expectation of recovery appeared to \nbe entertained. After this I called frequently, \nsometimes alone, sometimes with Mrs. Holmes, to \ninquire after Mrs. Dwight. The accounts were \nmostly, as I have said, encouraging. Sometimes \nwe saw the servant-girl only, sometimes Miss \nJenny or her mother. I did not for a while think \nit best to ask to see Mrs. Dwight, doubting whether \nit would be well for her to see any company. \n\n\" At last, finding that she continued languishing \nand suffering from nausea, I got uneasy, and left \nword at the house that I should be very glad if her \nphysician (whom I did not know, and who was, as I \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 171 \n\nwas led to think, a homoeopathic practitioner) would \ncall at my house after his visit, and talk over her \ncase with me. The physician. Dr. Newell, accord- \ningly came, and gave me a full history of all the \nprincipal facts of the case. He told me all that he \nhad done, which, as far as I could see, was essen- \ntially the right thing. It did not seem to me a case \nfor heroic treatment, but for cautious palliations and \npatience ; and that was the way it had seemed to \nhim. I made every suggestion I could think of, — \nnot at all as having any claim to meddle with the \ntreatment, but knowing that a hint oftentimes \nproves useful when a physician's attention has be- \ncome, fatigued by long attendance. Dr. Newell \nbehaved very well about it, seemed to be glad that \nI had taken it upon me to make suggestions to \nhim, and proposed, I think, that I should see Mrs. \nDwight. At any rate, he favored my seeing her; \nand the next day I sat by her bedside ten or fifteen \nminutes. This was the last time I saw her, and I \nknow you will treasure this last glimpse I had of \nher living face as a fond recollection. \n\n\" Mary — for so I must call her, speaking to you \nnow — was lying with her head raised upon her \npillow, looking not like herself as you remember \nher, and yet less changed than I had feared. She \nwas much wasted ; but her look was natural and \nbright, and che tones of her voice were cheerful. \nHer beautiful hair lay loosely upon the pillow (she \nwas too weak for all those nice arrangements she \nmight have cared for in health), but she looked so \n\n\n172 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nsweetly that I would not have that last image \nchanged. It was of perfect serenity and all herself, \nonly shadowy and faint as compared with her \nnatural luxuriance of life. I did not wish her to \ntalk much, spoke to her as cheerfully as I could, \nencouraged her to hope that she would be well \nwhen the cool autumn days had come, and left her, \nfeeling that she might probably do well, but that \nshe must not be excited by too much visiting or \ntalking. After this I commonly got favorable ac- \ncounts. She had begun to take food, they said; \nand at last every day I was told she was better. I \nbegan to feel quite easy about her. One morning \nmy daughter Amelia brought a bunch of fresh \nflowers from the Public Garden. ' Go carry them \nto Mrs. Dwight,' I said. 'She is getting better, \nand they will please her.' Amelia went over, and \nbrought back word that she was in a very critical \nsituation,— that they had thought she was dying \nthat morning. It was a surprise and a shock to \nme, utterly unexpected. I had become easy about \nher, and expected soon to see her riding out. That \nforenoon I met Dr. Newell, who told me of alarm- \ning symptoms which had appeared. He had called \nDr. John Ware in consultation, a wise and good \nman, who doubtless counselled whatever medical \nart could do. But it was in vain. Towards even- \ning I called. The servant-girl, who had always \nseemed truly devoted and interested, came to the \ndoor. Her look told me that I need not question \nher; but I said, with a hesitating voice, ' How is \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 173 \n\nMrs. Dwight ? ' The poor girl said never a word ; \nbut she slowly shook her head, and on her face \nthere was a look that said as plainly as words could \nsay it, ' She is in heaven.' \n\n\" I listened to the sweet music which was sung \nover her as she lay, covered with flowers, in the \npleasant parlor of her house, by the voices of those \nthat loved her, — I and my wife with me, — and then \nwe followed her to Mount Auburn, and saw her laid \nin the earth, and the blossoms showered down upon \nher with such tokens of affection and sorrow that \nthe rough men, whose business makes them callous \nto common impressions, were moved as none of us \never saw them moved before. Our good James \nClarke, as you know, conducted the simple service. \nIt was one which none of us who were present can \never forget ; and in every heart there was one feel- \ning over all others, — that for the far-distant husband, \nbrother, friend, as yet unconscious of the bereave- \nment he was too soon to learn. \n\n\" I cannot help speaking of the affectionate care \nwith which your Mary was encompassed during all \nthose weeks of illness. Her mother was tenderly \ndevoted to her ; and, as to her sister, I do not know \nwhen I have ever seen devotion and love carried \nfurther, and that with a gentle firmness and placid- \nity which filled me with admiration. At the very \nlast moment at Mount Auburn I saw Miss Jenny \nstanding and looking down upon the last resting- \nplace with a face as of an angel, as she threw the \nlast wreath upon her. \n\n\n174 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n*' I hope all these details, while they seem to open \nthe wounds of grief afresh, may yet be, on the \nwhole, a sad kind of relief. Your great affliction \nhas touched all our hearts ; and there is not one of \nus who does not long in some way to help you to \nbear it, and to endure through that period of ab- \nsence which must separate you from your many \nfriends. My wife desires to be most kindly re- \nmembered to you, and I need not again assure you \nthat you are continually in my affectionate remem- \nbrance. Thank you for thinking of Wendell in the \nmidst of all your distractions. It was like your \nkind self. God bless you and comfort you.\" \n\nFour days later Dwight wrote from Bonn, having \nfound his friend : \" I wrote you last Sunday, in \nFrankfort, a few hurried lines to let you know that \nI had at last received your agonizing but most \nbrotherly and tender letter. I hardly know what \nI wrote. It was growing dark : I wrote in tears, in \na little dark, cold room, — a rainy, gloomy, cold day, \nwith but an interval of Novemberish sunshine in \nthe middle of the day, during which I had rushed \nout (after reading all those kind letters, as well as \ntears would let me) and walked entirely round the \noutside of the city, under the trees that dropped \ntheir brown leaves and their nuts upon me ; for the \ncold, autumn days had come, — ' the melancholy \ndays, the saddest of the year.' I was bewildered, \nstunned almost. I could not realize the terrible \nfact. At moments in the walk my thoughts turned \nto Mary as naturally as they did in Switzerland, and \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 175 \n\nwherever I saw that which in my mind I always \nshared with her. Indeed, she did seem with me ; \nand the kind words of your own and of the other \nletters were not without their soothing, cheering \ninfluence even then, — that first bitter day. \n\n*' The heavy news had been long in coming. The \nletters ^seemed to have lingered on the way, as if \nconscious of what they bore, and shrinking from \ntheir duty. So they all came at once, — seven en- \nvelopes : your two, for which I thank and love you \nmore than ever; a most full, minute, kind, beautiful, \nand comforting account of all from Anna Parsons \n(to whom give my love and thank her, — I shall \nwrite . her soon) ; a true, manly, tender, strengthen- \ning, wise word from Woodman ; also from Fisher \nand from Apthorp ; and a most beautiful and \ntouching one from Henry Ware, — all beautiful \nletters, making me feel rich in friendship, and as if \ndear Mary, our dear Mary, were indeed still present, \nvery near in the love that unites us all. Dear \nJenny's letter, too, though brief, was full of heart \nand high and tranquil sentiment, full of cheering, \nstrong belief ; and every word meant much to me. \nHow is it with me } What have I done } What \nshall I do ? you ask. \n\n\" First, Frankfort was a gloomy, intolerable place \nto me. I had only waited there for letters ; and, \nthough I was sustained and calm that day to a \ndegree that made me wonder at myself, and seem \nalmost like heavenly or Mary's influence, when the \nshort autumn day waned into night, there was \n\n\n176 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nonly grief and sleep to occupy its long watches, — \nno human soul to talk or sit with ; no light ; no \neyes to read or write with. I got through as I \ncould, God helping, and in the dull and cloudy \nmorning started by rail and boat to go down the \nRhine to Bonn, where Thayer had several days \nawaited me. \n\n\" All sense of cold and rain vanished when the \ngood Thayer welcomed me in the little dark hotel \n(the 'Swan'). How soon he felt my feeling! and \nso sympathetically met me that it was a relief to \ntell him all. I have really been quite cheerful with \nhim ; and without him, when he is at work, I find \na sweet, sad pleasure in reading over and over the \ndear letters from home. They are a real treasure \nto me. Yesterday I got more of them. . . . \n\n\" You see, the second question is already an- \nswered. That is, I shall try to stay in Europe. I \nfelt at once the wisdom of the advice of you all; \nbut the first impulse was, the present yearning is, \n— how strong you hardly can imagine, — to come \nback and be among my friends, — those who loved \nMary, those who, with her, have formed my human \nsphere and home of life. I am terribly isolated \nhere. The difficulty of language cuts me off from \nall but necessary intercourse with others ; and, even \nif it were not so, I am so wedded, rooted, in all my \nfeelings and affections, in the familiar circle there \nat home, that it is all exile while I am away from it. \nI felt it very much so before this sad news : how \nmuch more so now ! My only comfort is to peruse \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 177 \n\nthe letters I get ; but it takes many weeks to \nanswer and exchange words. I want you all near \nme. Spiritual nearness I shall learn, perhaps — \nGod grant it ! — through this very trial. But home, \nhome, — where shall I again find home ? \n\n\" As you say, there appears no actual need — \noutward need — of my coming home. The dear \nhome in Charles Street is already broken up, and \nall have scattered. This is very, very sad to me. \nIt would have been a great comfort still to revert \nin feeling to that spot, and to know that Jenny and \nHarriet and other dear friends still kept a gentle, \nhomelike sphere there ; but I know it was impos- \nsible. Jenny must and should be with her mother, \nand the old house would be a sad place henceforth \nto them. We will trust to God ; and all that is \ngood and true in past affinities and harmonies will \ncertainly be saved and reappear and recombine in \nnew forms (still the same life), if not here, in an- \nother and a better world. \n\n\" I have entire confidence in all that you have \ndone or will do in regard to my affairs. ... I have \nscarcely thought of these things. But one dis- \nposal occurs to me which I desire to have made. I \nwish you to send the piano to Grace Hooper, to \nuse as long as I am away. She needs an instru- \nment on which she can practise ; and I am too \nhappy to be able to offer her this, such as it is. \nAny of my music, too, which she may like, is at \nher service. Pray do this. I certainly must keep \nthe instrument, — it is sacred ; and I know there \n\n\n178 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nis no one with whom Mary would more like to \nhave it left in charge and in use than Grace. \n\n\" Thank you, dear brother, for all the kind care \nyou are taking for me ; and, believe me, I am, on \nthe whole, more cheerful and composed — at all \nevents, resigned — than I could have supposed pos- \nsible under such a blow. But perhaps I do not yet \nfeel its full weight. I am desolate enough. The \ncoming days and months and years look dark, to \nbe sure ; but I feel that it is all for the best. I \nknow that it is a blessed change for Mary, and \nthat she was ripe and fit for it, and lives now in joy \nand peace ; and this alone ought to lend a deeper, \nricher, though a sad, joy to my life. When all of \nyou, who are all afflicted, take such high and cheer- \nful views, and find her death so beautiful, I should \nfeel that I was a hopeless sinner, did I not partake \nsome of the same cheerfulness.\" . . . \n\nA few selections only from his correspondence \ncan be given here, and these from his own inward \nexperiences and his music studies rather than from \nhis delightful accounts of travel. \n\n'* I think I omitted in my last to mention one \npretty little adventure which I had on my foot-tour \nin the Oberland. Walking from the Grimsel down \nthe wild and exquisite Hash Thai, one perfect \nmorning, I stopped just below Guttanen, in a lovely \npastoral meadow or Matten, at a little hut, to drink \nsome milk, which was as sweet as the smiling \npromise of the good woman's face. I sat at a bench \noutside the cottage, resting myself and enjoying \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 179 \n\nthe beauty of the scene. Meanwhile my guide \nhad gone into the house, and, I suppose, had told \nthe woman that I was an American ; for, when she \nreturned, she asked me if I was, and then with \nbeaming face said, ' Und kennen Sie vielleicht den \nHerrn Agassiz ? ' On my reply in the affirmative, \nshe seemed quite delighted. ' Komm hier, hier,' she \nsaid, and pulled me into the house, took down a \nlarge and curious silver watch containing the in- \nscription, ' L. Agassiz to Leuthold,' and said \n\nit was a gift to her good man, now dead, who seven \nyears ago built the hut in which Agassiz lived upon \nthe Aar glacier. She cherishes the professor's \nmemory with the utmost enthusiasm, called him \nthe ' best man in the world,' asked me all manner \nof questions about him, whether he was rich, etc., \nand made me write down his address carefully in \nEnglish and German, and promise her I would tell \nhim I had seen die Witwe Leuthold, As I rose to \ngo, she called me back again, and ran to get the \nfreshest bunch of Alpenrosli (rhododendron) she \ncould find, and stuck it in my hat; and with a \nwarm pressure of the hand, and many blessings, \nsent me off rejoicing. Was not that a pretty addi- \ntion to the charming memoirs of the day } \" \n\nFrom Berlin he wrote : — \n\n\" With leading musicians here it is hard to have \nmuch intercourse. They have very little with each \nother. No one seems to know what another is \nabout or how to find him. Of course, it would be \neasier to me if I could talk German better. I like \n\n\ni8o JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nHaupt the best, — the best organist, perhaps, in \nGermany; a thinking, high-toned, learned, non- \nfriendly, wise, and cheerful man, but hardly heard \nof abroad, because he sticks to his place without \nambition. It is just so with Franz. You would be \nsurprised to find how few Germans know anything \nabout him. I have not heard a song of his since I \nhave been in Germany. Yet Haupt, Franz, Dresel, \nare the men who ought to be gathered together \nsomewhere, and radiate an influence, as smaller men \ndo in Leipzig, simply by virtue of their combined \nposition. \n\n\" One of the kindliest to me here is jolly old \nWieprecht, grandmaster of all the military band \nmusic of Prussia, who probably knows more about \ninstruments than any man living, and to whom \nBerlioz, Liszt, and others owe not a little of their \nfame as masters of instrumentation. Taubert I \nhope to know, — I admire his face and appearance, \n— the most perfect model of manner as an orchestra \nconductor. Biilow, Liszt's son-in-law and chief rep- \nresentative, almost as good a pianist as himself (in \nexecution), who plays whole programmes of Bach, \nBeethoven, Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, and every- \nthing without looking at a note (he has a concert \nto-night), I was once introduced to by Liszt. That \nfamous personage stopped at this hotel the other \nday ; and I had a half-hour's interview with him, of \nwhich I will tell another time. I must now fly to \nLeipzig, — a concert all of Mozart.\" \n\nAfter a stay of four months in Berlin, Dwight \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE i8i \n\n• \n\nspent a few days in Leipzig the first of March, and \nthen passed on to Italy. He went by the way of \nVienna and Venice, in each of which cities he spent \na few days. Then he visited Padua, Florence, \nTurin, Genoa, Leghorn, went back to Florence, and \nthen on to Rome, which city he reached the middle \nof May. \n\nRome, June 2. \" I couldn't help going in to \nStory's studio, who was out; and I was led from \nroom to room, looking at statues while I waited for \nStory. And I sat a half-hour there amid his white \nideals, — his ' Cleopatra,' * Hero,' ' Gretchen,' ' Beetho- \nven,' and last of all, and really great, his ' African \nSibyl.' It was a fine introduction ; and it had \nthe feeling of Rome and of home in it to me, so \nlong accustomed to entire strangers only. Then I \nsought him at his house, and was most warmly \nwelcomed. Mrs. Story took me out to drive with \nher two dear little boys, to Trevi fountain and to \nSt. Peter's, and then bore me bodily, bag and bag- \ngage, up to their Quirinal Hill, to their home in \nthe Barberini Palace (spacious, grand old place, \ncontaining the original Beatrice Cenci portrait, \netc.); and here from that time I have been most \ncomfortably and cheerfully domiciled, in a spacious \nroom, overlooking all Rome, with St. Peter's loom- \ning in the background. Nothing could be more \ncordial nor complete than the hospitality of these \ngood friends. They have made me perfectly at \nhome ; and I have passed daily several hours in the \nsociety of Robert Browning, and have had several \n\n\ni82 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\npleasant 'interviews with Mrs. Browning, both of \nwhom I like very much. They have given me their \nphotographs. The first evening I was taken to a \nlittle company, to hear Hans Christian Andersen \nread some of his little stories ; and a day or two \nafter he came to a children's party of the little \nStorys, and read to them. And Browning read \nthem his ' Piper of Hamelin,' and then a whole \ntroop of beautiful children acted it out. Sam. \nLongfellow, too, appeared on that occasion ; and he \nand I have hunted in couples, seeing the sights of \nRome. Of these and my many great enjoyments \nhere, I must tell you another time.\" \n\nJune 5, on steamer to Marseilles, to his little \nniece. \" Did you ever read any of Hans Christian \nAndersen's charming little stories .f* The other \nday he came to a children's party where I was, and \nread some of them to a pretty little group, the little \nStorys and their friends. How happy they all \nwere ! The two sweet little boys, ' Bobo ' and \n' Gudie ' (Waldo and Julian are their real names) \nwere very eager to see Mr. Andersen, and to ask \nhim if his story of the ' Ugly Duckling ' was true. \nSo the party was made, and the tall man came, — the \ntall, homely Dane, the friend of little folks ; and a \nnice time they had of it, I assure you. It was in \nthe upper story of a great splendid palace (Palazzo \nBarberini), which looks off over all Rome. This \npalace is very large, all built of gray-white stone; \nand very broad marble stairs lead from the ground \nto the topmost story, five or six flights. And on the \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 183 \n\nstairs you meet a great marble lion (an old Roman \nwork) and many statues ; and in the palace live a \ncardinal and a duke of the Barberini family. My \nfriends hire and occupy one-half of the upper story, \nwhich contains forty great square rooms. What a \ngrand range for the children to run and play in ! \nThere was a poet, too, in the party, — Robert Brown- \ning; and he sat down on the carpet, in the centre \nof the ring of boys and girls, and read them his \n' Piper of Hamelin,' whose pipe drew all the rats \nout of the town, and the children after them. And \nthen Mr. Story dressed himself up like the piper, \nand tooted on a flute ; and all the children followed \nhim, shouting and screaming, up and down the \nlong, long range of rooms.\" \n\nAfter spending a few days in Paris, Dwight went \nto London, from which place he wrote July 6: \"I \nwas very glad to get the photograph, and liked it in \nmany respects much better than the first one, al- \nthough that has perhaps more of her living expres- \nsion ; but this one gives her beautiful head, and is \nbesides a finer picture. William Story, who seems \nto retain a lively impression of her, thought neither \nof them did her justice. Oh that a mould had been \ntaken from her head after death ! Story was so \nkind as to say that, if he only had that for a guide, \nhe would gladly model me a bust of Mary. And \nhis portrait busts are admirable. One which he \nmade of Robert Browning (begun and finished in \none week, while I was there) is wonderfully true \nand lifelike. Poor Mrs. Browning was delighted \n\n\niS4 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nwith it. Yesterday I was shocked to read of her \ndeath, in Florence. Just as they were leaving \nRome, she had her photograph taken; and she \npromised to send me one. I saw Cavour, too, only \na month before his death, — saw him in full health \n\nand life.\" . . . \n\nHe sailed for home on the \" Great Eastern \" \nSeptember lo; but the steamer encountered a fear- \nful storm, and after desperate efforts succeeded in \nreaching the coast of Ireland, having been almost \nwholly crippled for several days. Dwight landed \non the Irish coast, and found his way back to Lon- \ndon, where he wrote a long account of his experi- \nences, which was published in his Journal. \n\nLondon, October 30. \" I feel strangely confused \nabout it [returning home], but presume it will be \nfor the best. I had, while waiting in vain for ad- \nvices from home, almost settled down in the feel- \ning that I was to stay in Europe. I have had the \nimpression all along that my friends rather favored \nthe course, in view of the war, the want of all music, \nand of my desolated home, and poorer chance of \nhealth, bodily and mental or moral, there than here. \nI confess my fear of all this has been growing on \nme, and I have been almost superstitious about \nmy being driven back so. But tell Fanny that I \ncannot think God would have so inconvenienced \nand perilled eight hundred people, just to turn me \nback from a course I was pursuing.\" \n\nNovember i, to C. P. Cranch. ''I have but a \nminute to say good-by! I sail in 'Niagara' to- \n\n\nA YEAR IN EUROPE 185 \n\nmorrow for Boston. I had been waiting long for \nadvices from home, and had about made up my \nmind that I should stay in Europe, and was pleas- \ning myself with the thought that I should now see \nyou in Paris ; but last Tuesday came letters from \nhome, making my return imperative. My publisher \nthinks the paper suffers by my absence, and even \ndisinclines to continue the arrangement unless I \ncome back. So I must hurry home before the \nbottom falls out.\" \n\nWriting from London August 10, D wight ex- \npressed his pain and depression on hearing of the \nbattle of Bull Run and the defeat of the Northern \narmy. ' The real feeling of the English people is \nsympathy for the North, and profound sorrow for the \nwar. They think anything would be better than to \nfight one another. . . . Since the defeat, too, the gen- \neral opinion seems to be (and a very obstinate one) \nthat the North will not succeed in subduing the \nSouth. They do not understand us, that is plain. \nPretty hard, is it not, to have to read and to hear \nall this continually ? \" On his return to his editorial \nlabors, in reporting a chamber concert of the Men- \ndelssohn Quintette Club in the paper dated No- \nvember 30, Dwight took occasion to speak of the \nwar, his hatred of slavery, his faith in the Union \ncause, and his conviction that success was certain \nto come in the end. \n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. \nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC. \n\nOn his return from Europe, Dwight was without \na home. He went to his mother's house in Jamaica \nPlain for a few days, and then, Dec. 4, 1861, took \nup his residence in the Studio Building, Tremont \nStreet, only a few steps away from the office where \nhis paper was printed, in School Street. In this \nbuilding he secured a study and sleeping-room; and \nhe took his meals at some hotel or restaurant, usually \nat the Parker House. After this he spent two winters \nin Boylston and Derne Streets, with his mother, \nbrother, and sister Frances. On June 15, 1873, he \nremoved to the rooms of the Harvard Musical As- \nsociation, at 12 Pemberton Square. From his re- \nmoval to this place to the end of his life he had no \ndomestic establishment of his own, no immediate \nfamily circle around which gathered the tender sym- \npathies of his warm heart-life. \n\nDwight's father had died in 1853, but his mother \nlived until 1876. After the breaking up of Brook \nFarm, the Dwight and Orvis families found a home \nin Forest Hill Street, Jamaica Plain. Dwight and \nhis brother Frank, who established himself in Bos- \nton as an architect, were very fond of each other, \nand faithful to each other's interests. Frances E. \nDwight was also a member of the family, and de- \nvoted herself to the teaching of music with marked \nsuccess. Here Dwight spent whatever time he \ncould take from his work, and was always welcomed \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 187 \n\nwith delight. His family were fond of him, and \ntook great pride in his success. \n\nIf Dwight had no fireside of his own, he found \na welcome place by that of many of his friends. \nSome hints of his personal life contained in his let- \nters may here be given, and these mostly related \nto his summer outings or to his own monotonous \nlife in the city. The first is a letter to his intimate \nfriend, Otto Dresel, written July 12, 1863, which \ngives suggestion of how he often rebelled against \nthe drudgery of his editorial task : — \n\n\" It is simply impossible for me now to decide \nabout going anywhere. If I go to the mountains, \nI shall wish to stay away three weeks or so ; and, \ntherefore, I should have to get all the matter cut \nand dried for two numbers of the ' old paper,' which \nI would too willingly ' stop ' if I could, without stop- \nping at the same time the bread and butter and the \nmeans of travel. I wish I could start off to-morrow, \nfor it is insufferably schwul and sultry here to-day, \nand I creep round sick and miserable, — in fact, not \nin a condition to make a journey ; but I shall soon \nbe better.\" \n\nHe went to Newport more often than to any \nother place for summer recreation, and found there \nthe human companionship and the nearness to \nnature which he loved with strong affection. A \nletter to one of his sisters, written Aug. 25, 1871, \nshows something of what this brief period of recrea- \ntion was to him : — \n\n\" I came home on Wednesday, having had a de- \n\n\ni88 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nlightful week with the Tweedys. Newport is love- \nHer, fresher, sweeter, than ever. Every day Tweedy \ntook us to drive, — Willie James and me: he is a \nrare youth, — and I saw so many old friends from \nNew York and elsewhere that it seemed as if one \nhad only to go to Newport to meet everybody he \never knew. I had a very pleasant half-hour with \nNilsson. Parke Godwin and his daughter, too, I \nsaw much of. They have had Nilsson a month \nwith them at Roslyn. \n\n\" One occasion of the rarest interest was hearing \nM. Athanase Coquerel, the eloquent Unitarian \npreacher of Paris, preach in Brooks's church. He \nreached New York unannounced; sought eight or \nten of his old friends who had known him in Paris, \nbut found not one except Horace Greeley. Gree- \nley advised him to come to Newport, so associated \nwith the names of Channing and Roger Williams; \nand only on Saturday morning Brooks received a \ntelegram, ' The Rev. Mr. Coquette will be in New- \nport to-night, and will preach if desired,' — Gree- \nley's bad writing. But Brooks guessed it out, and \nhad him domesticated at Gardner Brewer's beau- \ntiful residence ; and the little church for once was \ncrowded. Scarcely ever have I been so interested \nin a preacher. \n\n\" We drove out once to the Howes, and met them \nonce at a picnic of the new literary club in Para- \ndise and Purgatory. James Sturgis, who is living \nnear Tweedy, went down with me and came up \nwith me. But, ah! the change from that pure. \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 189 \n\nsweet air to Boston streets and dog-day heat. I \nwas sick as soon as I got back, so that I could do \nnothing, and had to huddle my Jour^ial out any- \nhow. I am better, but still not right.\" \n\nMusic had now become for Dwight the chief in- \nterest of his life, and almost its sole interest. It \nwas ever in his mind, and for it he was toiling al- \nmost constantly. Besides the work of editing his \npaper, which involved a regular attendance upon \nmost of the musical entertainments of the city, he \ngave much time to other phases of the advance- \nment of music, was constantly appealed to for ad- \nvice and assistance, and so thoroughly mastered \nhis subject that he came to be known as the chief \nmusical authority in the country. \n\nAt this period Dwight devoted much time to \ntranslation. In 1859 there was published in Bos- \nton his translation of H. Wohlfahrt's \"Guide to \nMusical Composition.\" The same year Ditson pub- \nlished Bach's \" Saint Matthew Passion Music,\" with \na translation of the words by Dwight. He also \ntranslated a large number of German songs and \npoems for Ditson, which were published with \nmusic. In 1865 several of the songs in Heine's \n\" Buch der Lieder \" were adapted to selections from \nSchumann's \" Dichterliebe.\" The same year he \ntranslated a number of German songs to accompany \nan edition of the song music of Robert Franz, \nwhich was published by Ditson. \n\nOn the first day of January, 1863, a Jubilee Con- \ncert was held in Music Hall, Boston, in recognition \n\n\nI90 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nof the Proclamation of Emancipation issued by \nPresident Lincoln. The public announcement of \nthe concert was signed by H. W. Longfellow, Ed- \nward E. Hale, James T. Fields, O. W. Holmes, \nR. W. Emerson, John G. Whittier, E. P. Whipple, \nF. H. Underwood, John S. D wight, and others. \nDwight had much to do with planning this occa- \nsion of rejoicing, and much of the work necessary \nto make it a success was done by him. He invited \nEmerson to prepare and read a poem suitable for \nthe occasion, in reply to which he received the fol- \nlowing : — \n\nConcord^ 19 Deer., 1862. \n\nMy dear Dwight, — I am sorry not to have be- \nthought myself at once of the obstacle when your \nfine project dazzled my eyes. But, when I came \nhome last night and made some rude experiments \nat verses, I saw at once that, however alluring and \nmost inspiring was your invitation to insert my \ncontribution — if I shall have one — in your noble \natmosphere of music, yet this was wholly to break \nfaith with my first inviters, the Fraternity, to whom \nI had signified no dissent from their desire that I \nshould join them. I could heartily wish the two \ncelebrations could be combined ; but, if that is out \nof question, I fear I owe all my duty to the Frater- \nnity. This is a long note to write about only a pos- \nsible copy of verses. Ever vours \n\nR. W. Emerson. \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 191 \n\nEmerson was persuaded to make the effort to \ngive a poem on the occasion, although he gave an \naddress before the Parker Fraternity on the same \nday. His muse would not be inspired at his bid- \nding, however; and two days before the time for \nthe concert Dwight received this note from him : — \n\nMy dear Dwight^ — At this hour you must cer- \ntainly print the programme without my name, as I \nhave had little or no good fortune. Still, I flatter \nmyself that, if I should have a good sleep to-night, \n— for I am a bad sleeper lately, — I may even yet, \nat the eleventh hour, pray to be admitted. But it \nis too slight a chance to be at all waited for ; and I \nam heartily grieved I did not find the fact sooner. \n\n' R. W. Emerson. \n\nParker House^ Tuesday P.M. \n\nThe programme was printed without Emerson's \nname; but he got a good night's sleep, and the \nconcert opened with his \" Boston Hymn,\" one of \nhis most inspired utterances. Noble music from \nBeethoven, Mendelssohn, Handel, and Rossini, was \nincluded in the programme, and some of the best \nsingers and musicians of Boston joined their gifts \nto make a most inspiring occasion. One special \nfeature was the singing, by solo and chorus, of \nO. W. Holmes's \" Army Hymn,\" with the fifth verse \nspecially written for the occasion, to music fur- \nnished by Otto Drese). \n\nThe concert was a great success in the largeness \n\n\n192 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nof the attendance, the enthusiastic response of the \naudience to the expressions of patriotism, and the \ndehght with which the final announcement of eman- \ncipation was welcomed. The music was fitting, \nand rendered in a manner worthy of the occasion. \nDwight said of Emerson's poem : \" It was a hymn \nof Liberty and Justice, wild and strong, and musi- \ncal and very short, and in his rich tones spellbound \nthe great assembly.\" \" This concert will be long \nremembered,\" was his final comment upon it. \" It \nwill become an anniversary. Whether regarded as \na patriotic celebration or as a strictly musical occa- \nsion, it has called forth more spontaneous expres- \nsions of delight than any festival that most of us \nremember.\" \n\nThese details in regard to the Jubilee Concert \nmay be justified, in view of Dwight's attitude \ntowards the \" National Peace Jubilee,\" held in \nBoston, 1869, under the direction of Mr. P. S. Gil- \nmore. Dwight's attitude towards this great musi- \ncal festival was one of suspicion from the first, and \nof criticism to the end. In this he was thoroughly \nconsistent, and fully justified by his own standard. \nA monster celebration, such as the \" Peace Jubilee,\" \nhowever noble the primary motive and purpose, was \nto him objectionable in every way. In the excess \nof noisy triumph and shouting patriotism, he saw no \nreal advantage to art, no fit expression of its nobler \nmotives, and no just interpretation of its relations to \na nation's victories for freedom and peace. \n\nHe could not conscientiously give Mr. Gilmore \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 193 \n\nthe assistance for which he asked ; but it was from \nno lack of patriotism, no failure to rejoice in the \ntriumph of freedom and union, and no want of con- \nviction that music was the fit instrument for giv- \ning expression to the rejoicings of the nation. He \nhad already expressed his strong \" conviction that \nthe great thoughts of Humanity and Freedom, the \nprogressive moral instincts of the age, although to \nthis day spit upon and crucified, are yet in most \nintimate alliance with the loftiest inspirations and \nutmost refinements of creative genius and art, — \nmusical art especially.\" His objection to the Gil- \nmore celebration was that it was not truly artistic, \nthat it gave no genuine recognition to music as an \nexpression of the deeper sentiments of mankind, \nand that the whole spirit of it was dominated by \nshow and self-gratulation. Instead of being used \nto lift music to its highest level, and to lift the \npeople to the same high elevation of patriotism and \nhumanitarian sentiment, it was conceived in the \nspirit of the cheapest patriotic boasting and the \nmost noisy musical demonstration. It aimed to \nplease the groundlings, and sought for nothing \nmore. It may be said that many truly artistic and \npatriotic people gave it their support, but considera- \ntions of a selfish and narrow character largely pre- \ndominated in its conception and execution. \n\nIn his \" History of the National Peace Jubilee,\" \nMr. Gilmore saw fit to treat Mr. Dwight as his \nenemy, and to speak of him in a most jaunty and \ninsulting manner. It is not necessary to dwell \n\n\n194 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nupon their relations to each other, or to point out \nthe fact that the one was a showman and that the \nother was a lover of music for its genuine artistic \nvalues. It may be said, however, that Dwight was \nas fair-minded as he was honest and sincere, and \nthat, though he opposed the Jubilee from the start, \nyet he recognized its good features, and spoke of it \nin a friendly manner. Of the first day he made \nthis report in his paper, immediately after: \" Much \nas we disliked the extravagance of the plan origi- \nnally, and shrank from the boastful style of the an- \nnouncement of this 'greatest musical festival ever \nheld in any part of the world ' (as if greatness were \nto be measured by mere magnitude and numbers), \nwe cheerfully make haste to own that the result so \nfar has in many respects agreeably disappointed us. \nUpon the whole, a better thing has been wrought \nout of it than a plan so vainglorious in the con- \nception, so unscrupulously advertised and glorified \nbefore it had begun to be, and having so much of \nclaptrap mixed up with what was good in its pro- \ngramme, gave one any reasonable right to expect. \nBut the wide, stupendous advertising filled thou- \nsands of minds with an enthusiasm which, if igno- \nrant, was entirely honest. . . . We can only say that \nthe success of Tuesday was in the main glorious \nand inspiring. The vast audience was greatly \nstirred, delighted. The best effects were achieved \nby the great chorus.\" \n\nThe editors of the New York Tribune asked \nDwight to write for them a \" careful, critical sum- \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 195 \n\nmary of the net result \" of the concert ; and he sent \nthem an extended study of its various features. He \nfully recognized its pretentious and grotesque ele- \nments, the ordinary musical capacity of its projec- \ntor, and the bombastic manner in which he adver- \ntised himself and his undertaking. He showed \nhow all this repelled genuine lovers of music and \nthose with cultivated artistic perceptions. He \nfrankly admitted the good in the concert, however, \nand gave it much enthusiastic praise. He pointed \nout the incongruous elements in the programme, as \nwell as its ambiguous and pretentious features ; but \nhe gave praise to everything which could be praised, \nand approved the final outcome of the gigantic \nundertaking. . He said that \" as an occasion, of a \nnew kind, of unexampled magnitude, — whatever it \nmay have been musically, — the Jubilee was a suc- \ncess. It has become a splendid fact, which has to \nbe accepted.\" On the side of the execution of the \nmusic, he said \"there was very much to praise. In \nthe great chorus there was far more unity, precision, \nlight and shade in rendering, than almost any one \nof musical experience could have believed possible. \nAnd it grew better as the thing went on. It gave \none a proud joy to know that so many thousands of \nsingers, with only one rehearsal of the whole, could \nsing so well together. It told of musical enthu- \nsiasm, of esprit du corps^ of good native average of \nvoices, and of talent, good instruction, and inspiring \ndrill in separate bodies.\" \n\nOf the World's Peace Jubilee, held in the sum- \n\n\n196 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nmer of 1872, and under the auspices of the same \ndirector, Dwight wrote with the same honest recog- \nnition of the good and the bad which it presented. \nHe saw clearly the personal ambition which di- \nrected it, and the excess of zeal which presided \nover its development. He pointed out with un- \nflinching courage and keen musical insight the \nreasons of its failure from a high musical point of \nview, and yet he was as sincere in recognizing its \nQ-ood features. He devoted three long articles to \na review of its work, and they afford a remarkable \ninstance of what a critic can accomplish in the way \nof correcting the follies of men of large projects \nand small artistic ability. \n\nWith the beginning of the twelfth year of the \nJournal of Music, April, 1864, it was changed from \na weekly to a fortnightly publication, the price \nbeing continued at one dollar a year, though it was \nsoon after changed to two. These changes were \nthe result of the Civil War, its absorbing interest, \nand the consequent depression in the artistic life of \nthe nation. None could rejoice more heartily than \nDwieht when the war came to an end, with the \ntriumph of freedom and with a united country. On \nCommencement Day of 1865, Harvard University \ndid honor to those of its members who had taken part \nin the war, and especially to those who had fallen \nin the strife. The speeches of the occasion were \nmade by General Devens, Governor Andrew, Presi- \ndent Hill, General Meade, Admiral Davis, and \nEmerson. Poems were read by Holmes, Lowell, \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 197 \n\nMrs. Howe, and Charles T. Brooks. The music \nwas in charge of Mr. J. K. Paine, then the musical \ndirector of the university ; and he was assisted by \na chorus from the Harvard Musical Association. \nAmong the other pieces was a \" Horatian Ode\" \nwritten by Dwight, sung to Flemming's \" part-song, \na strain of simple, solemn, noble harmony,\" as \nfollows : — \n\n\n\"Integer Vit^e Scelerisque Purus. \n\n\ni> \n\n\nManly and gentle, pure and noble-hearted, \nSweet were their days of peaceful use and beauty. \nSweeter than peace or days or years is freedom, \nThought our young heroes. \n\nWar's wild alarm drove sleep from every pillow ; \nSlavery, rampant, stalked athwart the broad land. \nPrompt at the call of Country and of Duty, \nFlew the young heroes. \n\nDarkly the clouds hung o'er a doubtful conflict : \nOut shone the rainbow, — Liberty to all Men \nLo ! now a Country grand enough to die for ! \nPeace to our heroes ! \n\nRear we for them no cold sepulchral marble : \nFresh in our hearts their very selves are living, \nDearer and nearer now, — e'en as God is nearest,- \nRisen in glory ! \n\nCease from thy weeping, rise, O Alma Mater ! \nCount thy young heroes tenderly and proudly ; \nBeaming thine eyes, with holy joy confess them : \nThese are thy children ! \n\n\ni9B JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nOn March 26, 1870, Dwight gave a lecture on \n\" Music In Relation to Culture and the Religious \nSentiment,\" in the \" Horticultural Hall Sunday \nAfternoon Lectures.\" Among the other lecturers \nin the course were John Weiss, O. B. Frothing- \nham, T. W. Higginson, Samuel Longfellow, Julia \nWard Howe, Ednah D. Cheney, David A. Wasson, \nWilliam H. Channing, and Wendell Phillips. A \nfew days later the secretary of the lecture course \nwrote him, \" The reports of your lecture on music \nhave awakened so general an interest in it that we \nare thinking of inviting you to repeat it some week- \nday afternoon, at such time as shall suit your con- \nvenience.\" A request for its repetition, in behalf \nof those who were not able to hear it, was sent to \nhim, signed by O. W. Holmes. J. R. Lowell, James \nB. Thayer, William L Thorndike, G. S. Hillard, \nSamuel Longfellow, F. H. Underwood, and others. \nIn response to these requests the lecture was re- \npeated on May 6. The next day Dwight received \nthe following letter from one of the leaders of \nmusical interest in Boston : — \n\n\" I listened to your lecture with an interest that \nwould not have flagged if you had given us three \nhours instead of one. It is so far the best thing \nthat one might say it is the only thing that has \nbeen said about music on this side of the water. \nMy only complaint is that you turned over too \nmany pages. You had there material for at least \nthree lectures. Now why cannot you give it all to \nus, without abridgement, in the Atlantic? They \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 199 \n\nwould pay you for three articles as readily as for \none. Divide thus, for instance : I. The story of \nthe coming-in among us of the true thing, its rela- \ntions to the new growth of culture and religion, \na fuller sketch of the old Odeon days, before the \nmusical recollections of many of us, with perhaps a \nreference to what George Curtis has also said about \nthem, already made in the Journal, And so on \ndown to the present, with its great smoke without, \nand its hot fire at the heart, — its display, egotism, \nvanity, and mercenary sordidness, but, by contrast, \nthe real feeling at the bottom. II. The scope and \nimportance of music as culture and religion, which \nwould comprise the bulk of what you read last \nnight. III. The intrinsic qualities which make it \nso important, which would give an opportunity for \nall that you desire to say about the structure of \nfugue and symphony and other forms, as well as \nfor the analysis which you did not give us of repre- \nsentative works, such as the ' Passion Music ' and \nthe ' Choral Symphony.' It is time for you to go \nto Fields with a manuscript of ' Musical Essays, ist \nseries'; but meanwhile the three ^//<3j/^^/^ articles \nwill not be amiss.\" \n\nThe lecture was published in the Atlantic Mojtthly \nduring 1870, the first part appearing in Septem- \nber, under the title of \" Music a Means of Culture,\" \nand the second part in December, as \" The Intel- \nlectual Influence of Music.\" \n\nIn 1879 came another change in the career of the \nJournal oj Music, From the first the publisher \n\n\n200 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nand the editor were not wholly in harmony as to \nthe best method of conducting the paper. It was \nthe publisher's wish to make it popular and a help \nto his business interests. The editor was strictly \nconcerned for the good of music as an art, his liter- \nary aim was high, and he was not in sympathy with \nthe popular tendencies of the musical profession. \nWith the trade interests of the publisher he had no \nsympathy, and he was not willing to make any con- \ncessions in that behalf. It must be remembered, \nhowever, that he had made many sacrifices for \nthe sake of pushing the claims of music as an \nart, that he had a salary of only one thousand dol- \nlars a year after the paper became a fortnightly, and \nthat he had steadily held to his high aims against \nmany discouragements. The cost of fidelity to his \nideals was borne by himself without complaint. \n\nIn July, 1878, Dwight received from Oliver Ditson \n& Co., his publishers, a letter in which they notified \nhim of their wish to change the character of the \nJournal of Music, making it more popular, and \nusing it to further their publishing interests. Upon \nconsultation with several of his friends, they advised \nagainst the proposed change ; and Longfellow took \nthe lead in finding another publisher and securing \na guarantee fund that would enable the paper to go \non under better auspices. It was arranged that \nHoughton, Osgood & Co. should undertake the \npublication. \n\nAfter twenty years of connection with a great \nmusic-publishing house the Journal severed its re- \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 201 \n\nlations therewith at the end of the year 1878. The \nnew arrangement was announced in the number for \nAugust 31, in which the editor said, \" We make few \npromises, — only this one in fact, that we shall do \nall in our power to keep the Journal true to the \ncharacter and name it has so long maintained both \nin this country and abroad. In renouncing all con- \nnection, all appearance even of identity of interests, \nwith the music trade in any of its representatives or \nbranches, our Journal offers a new guarantee — \nwere any needed — of fearless honesty and indepen- \ndence in its views and criticisms. We wish to add \nto its contents new elements, — the contributions of \nyounger minds, as well as of mature experience, — \nand this we shall do just so far as we shall be en- \nabled by the prompt support and patronage for \nwhich we look to friends of Art and lovers of the \nbest in Music.\" \n\nThe paper was now a fortnightly of eight pages, \npublished at two and a half dollars a year; but it \npresented an attractive appearance, and the con- \ntents were much improved. The old contributors \nremained, and new ones were secured. It was the \nplan to secure articles of first-class value and in- \nterest from leading writers on literary and artistic \nsubjects. The first number opened with a poem \nby C. P. Cranch, which was followed by a musical \narticle from the pen of William F. Apthorp. This \nwas succeeded by a study of Chopin from the pen \nof Fanny Raymond Ritter, and to the book reviews \nFrancis H. Underwood was a contributor. In sue- \n\n\n202 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nceeding numbers there were articles, poems, or book \nreviews by Julia Ward Howe, T. G. Appleton, \nStuart Sterne, Frederic Louis Ritter, and William \nM. Hunt. The paper was now abler in its manage- \nment, had a greater variety of contents, and was bet- \nter calculated to serve the higher interests of music \nthan ever before. \n\nIt was soon evident, however, that the public \nwas not ready to support such a paper as the edi- \ntor was trying to make. The plan of paid con- \ntributors had to be given up, and the editor had to \nfall back upon his own resources. There was a \nconsiderable loss the first year, but this was greatly \nreduced the second. In December, 1880, the friends \nof the editor and the paper gave them a testimonial \nconcert. A testimonial committee was organized, \nof which John P. Putnam was chairman, Francis H. \nUnderwood secretary, and A. Parker Browne treas- \nurer. This committee addressed Dwight the fol- \nlowing letter : — \n\nMT o -nv Boston. Nov. ic, 1880. \n\nr. John S. Dwight: ' ^' \n\nDear Sir^ — A number of your friends, who re- \nmember your long and faithful services in behalf \nof the cause of music, and who are deeply grateful \nthat it has been permitted to you to accomplish so \nmuch in elevating the standard of public perform- \nances and in refining the public taste, have deter- \nmined to offer you a Testimonial Concert to be \ngiven on a fitting scale, early in the coming month, \nat the Boston Music Hall. They respectfully ask \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 203 \n\nyour acceptance of the compliment, with their \nunited good will and affection, and with best wishes \nfor your continued health and usefulness : — \n\nR. E. Apthorp, W. F. Apthorp, L. B. Barnes, \n\nF. P. Bacon, W. P. Blake, J. Bradlee, A. P. Browne, \n\nG. H. Chickering, E. H. Clement, C. P. Curtis, \nOliver Ditson, E. S. Dodge, L. C. Elson, Julius \nEichberg, Augustus Flagg, John Fiske, Arthur W. \nFoote, L. L. Holden, H. L. Higginson, F. H. Jenks, \nG. P. King, H. W. Longfellow, B. J. Lang, S. W. \nLangmaid, H. K. Oliver, Carl Prlifer, George L. \nOsgood, H. W. Pickering, John P. Putnam, J. C. D. \nParker, Ernst Perabo, Charles C. Perkins, John \nK. Paine, LeBaron Russell, Arthur Reed, Henry \nM. Rogers, S. B. Schlesinger, W. H. Sherwood, \nJames Sturgis, A. J. C. Sowdon, S. L. Thorndike, \nF. H. Underwood, R. C. Waterston, Henry B. \nWilliams, B. E. Woolf, Henry Ware, L. Weissbein, \nRobert C. Winthrop, Erving Winslow, Carl Zer- \nrahn. \n\nDwight's reply was in these words, his letter \nbeing given in full, and not in the abbreviated form \nas printed on the circular of the committee : — \n\nBoston^ Nov. 16, 1880. \n\nTo THE Hon. J. P. Putnam, Chairman, etc, : \n\nGentlemen, — Your kind and courteous offer \ntouches me deeply, and demands fitter answer than \nI know how to make. Such a recoQ:nition — en- \ntirely spontaneous, unexpected, and undreamed of \n\n\n204 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\non my own part — of my poor persistent labors to \nconvince others of the beauty and the holiness of \nthe Art which I have always loved, and always shall \nlove, comes upon me as an exquisite surprise. \nAfter many periods of misgiving, many fears that \nthe old tree had proved fruitless after all, this comes \nto revive hope and motive, and give me, as it were, \nthe sense of a new life, — at all events, to encourage \nme to attempt yet further and — let us hope — bet- \nter work. \n\nI am sure I understand you, gentlemen. What \nyou would honor in me is simply the high purpose, \nthe honesty, and the consistent perseverance of my \ncourse. To this, and to nothing more, can I lay \nclaim. When my work began, music was esteemed \nat its true worth by very few among us. I simply \npreached the faith that was in me. Now we are \nalmost a musical people. Those who come forward \nnow learn music as it should be learned, learn to \nspeak of it with knowledge, — the knowledge that \ncomes of practice, — and will readily outstrip me. \nWhat more could I desire ? There is a lesson in \nall this which every young man should take to \nheart : it is that every worthy, independent, honest, \nwork, persisted in, in spite of neglect and abuse \nand years of seeming failure, is sure of recognition \nall the sweeter in the end. \n\nTo a committee so largely representative of the \nbest elements of the musical profession, of the best \nand wisest friends of music, as well as of the hon- \nored names of dear old Boston, and for the prof- \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 205 \n\nfered Concert, which in such hands is sure to be a \nnoble one, I can never be too grateful. But let me \ncome to the point at once, and simply say that I \nmost thankfully accept the compliment you offer. \n\nI am respectfully and cordially yours, \n\nJohn S. Dwight. \n\nThis concert was held in Music Hall on Thurs- \nday afternoon, Dec. 9, 1880, and was in every way \na success. A large number of musicians volun- \nteered their services, including m^any not named \non the committee. The use of Music Hall was \ngiven, without charge, for the occasion, as well \nas the pianos and printing. The programme in- \ncluded Beethoven's \" Fifth Symphony,\" Schubert's \n\" Twenty-third Psalm,\" a concerto from Bach, \nSchumann's Concert-stueck, a selection from Beet- \nhoven's \" Fidelio,\" and an overture from Mendels- \nsohn. This concert awakened great enthusiasm \namong the musicians of Boston and vicinity, it was \nlargely attended, and the occasion proved an ova- \ntion to one who had toiled for musicians so many \nyears. It proved to him that his work was appreci- \nated, and that there were many people ready to do \nhim honor. The committee was able to put into \nDwight's hand the sum of ^6,000 as the result of \nthe concert and the contributions of his friends. \n\nOf this concert Dwight said in the Journal of \nMusic : \" Greetings and warmest signs of recogni- \ntion, kindliest notes of sympathy (often from most \n\n\n2o6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nunexpected quarters), prompt, enthusiastic offers of \nmusical service in any concert that might be ar- \nranged, poured in upon the editor, who all at once \nfound himself the object of unusual attention. \nHand and heart were offered wherever he met an \nold acquaintance. Everybody seemed full of the \nbright idea that had struck somebody just in the \nnick of time. We never knew we had so -many \nfriends . . . who, through the press, as well as by \nvoice and pen in private, created an interest in \nothers, and helped to organize the plan so beauti- \nfully realized on Thursday of last week. . . . For \nsuch a testimonial, so sincere and hearty in the in- \nception, so admirably prepared, with such consum- \nmate tact and delicacy, so beautiful, resplendent in \nthe full flower, and so fraught with solid tokens of \nesteem and friendship, we can hardly trust our- \nself to find fit words of thanks. We accept \nit both with pride and with humility, for it is a \nformidable thought to us that we seem now more \nthan ever bound to go on trying (perhaps in \nvain) to perform any service that shall in any de- \ngree vindicate the faith which hosts of friends have \nin this touching way reposed in us. \n\n*'But, leaving all we wished to say to be im- \nagined, as it readily will be in a social and musical \natmosphere so sympathetic as this in which we just \nnow have the happiness to live and move and have \nour being (although it seems like passive dream- \ning), let us come at once to the concert itself, \nwhich was in every way a signal, memorable sue- \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 207 \n\ncess, and which we flatter ourself w^e could and \ndid appreciate about as keenly as any other man or \nwoman in that great and really distinguished audi- \nence. Both programme and performance were of \nso exceptionally fine a character as to claim special \nmention among the many good things we have \nheard or shall hear this winter. Never was a \nfiner programme, either intrinsically or in its fit- \nness for the occasion, presented in Boston ; never \na more conscientious con amore rendering, seldom \none with finer means, and all by artists who had \nkindly, eagerly, offered their co-operation freely, in- \ncluding the orchestra of the Harvard Symphony \nConcerts, with Mr. Carl Zerrahn, conductor, and \nMr. Bernhard Listemann, violin leader, besides \na small army of our best vocalists, pianists, violin- \nists, more than could possibly find place in a single \nconcert. . . . Now was not that a concert to be re- \nmembered all one's life ? \" \n\nAs Dwight seems in some measure to have an- \nticipated, the continued effort proved to be in vain. \nIn the number of the /ourna/ ior July 16, 1 881, he \nannounced that one more number would bring the \npaper to an end, and said : \" Instead of the prom- \nised increase, the income from subscribers and \nfrom advertisers has fallen off, showing for the first \nhalf of the year a serious loss, which falls entirely on \nthe editor himself, who has no heart to ask or to ac- \ncept any further guarantee from friends. Prudence \ncounsels him that it is better to stop now than to \nrisk double loss by letting the paper run on to the \nend of the year.\" \n\n\n2o8 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nFrom all sides came the warmest expressions of \nsympathy, and regret that the Journal of Music \nshould be at last obliged to give up its brave \nstruggle. There was the warmest recognition from \nthe press of the country of its able efforts to further \nthe cause of music, mingled with some criticism of \nthe editor's conservative attitude. The last number \nof Dwighfs Journal of Music bore date of Sept. \n3, 1 88 1. In his valedictory article the editor \nsaid that he was convinced there was no real \ndemand in the country for a high-class journal \ndevoted to the interests of music ; and he spoke of \nthe severe competition which made the publication \nof such a journal impossible, of the fact that musical \ncriticism was presented in the daily and weekly \npapers to an extent which satisfied most people, and \nof the wide diffusion of musical knowledge since he \nbegan his work. Parts of this final estimate of his \neditorial labors make it clearer than anything else \nhe ever wrote what were Dwight's ideals, and what \nthe task which he set before him, at which he had \nlabored for so many years. \n\n\" There is no putting out of sight the fact,\" he \nwrote, in discussing the causes why it was desirable \nto discontinue the paper, and why he had grown \nweary of his task, \" that the great themes for dis- \ncussion, criticism, literary exposition and descrip- \ntion, which inspired us in this journal's prime, the \nmaster works and character and meaning of the \nimmortal ones, like Bach and Handel, Mozart, \nBeethoven, Schubert, and the rest, although they \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 209 \n\ncannot be exhausted, yet inevitably lose the charm \nof novelty. . . . The thoughts we then insisted on \nfrom inmost conviction, with a zeal for inciting \nothers to seek, and helping others to appreciate the \ndivine power and beauty and great meaning of \nthose inspired art creations, are now become the \ncommon property of all the world. Of course, we \nnever owned them ; but we felt them, and endeavored, \nsomewhat successfully within a narrow, slowly wid- \nening circle, to make others feel their truth. All \ntrue thought, truly stated, inevitably crumbles in the \ncourse of time into the smallest current coin. Lack- \ning the genius to make the old seem new, we can- \ndidly confess that what now challenges the world \nas new in music fails to stir us to the same depths \nof soul and feeling that the old masters did, and \ndoubtless always will. Startling as the new com- \nposers are, and novel, curious, brilliant, beautiful \nat times, they do not inspire us as we have been in- \nspired before, and do not bring us nearer heaven. \nWe feel no inward call to the proclaiming of the \nnew gospel. We have tried to do justice to these \nworks as they have claimed our notice, and have \nomitted no intelligence of them which came within \nthe limits of our columns ; but we lack motive for \nentering their doubtful service, we are not ordained \ntheir prophet. If these had been enthroned the \nDii majores of the musical Olympus, and there had \nbeen no greater gods ; if the contributions of the \npast thirty years to musical production were the \nwhole of music, — we never should have dreamed of \n\n\n210 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nestablishing a musical journal, nor would music \nhave been able to seduce us from other paths, in \nwhich, by persevering, we might possibly have done \nmore good. It may be all a prejudice, perhaps we \nare one-sided, perhaps too steady contemplation of \nthe glory of the great age has seared our eyeballs \nfor the modern splendors ; but we prefer to leave \nthese and their advocacy ' to whom it may concern.' \nDoubtless here is one secret of much of the indiffer- \nence to this journal : the ' disciples of the newness ' \nfeel that it has not been in sympathy with what \nthey would call the new musical spirit of the times, \nand innocent inquirers take the cue from them. . . . \n\" But whatever may have been the causes of our \nfailure to make this journal what it should be, we \nare disposed to find them mostly in the editor \nhimself. . . . We have long realized that we were \nnot made for the competitive, sharp enterprise \nof modern journalism. That turn of mind which \nlooks at the ideal rather than the practical, and the \nnative indolence of temperament which sometimes \ngoes with it, have made our movements slow. \nHurry who will, we rather wait and take our \nchance. The work which could not be done at \nleisure, and in disregard to all immediate effect, we \nhave been too apt to feel was hardly worth the \ndoing. To be the first in the field with an an- \nnouncement or a criticism or an idea was no part \nof our ambition. How can one recognize competi- \ntors or enter into competition, and at the same \ntime keep his eye upon truth ? If one have anything \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 211 \n\nworth saying, will it not be as good to-morrow as \n\nto-day?\" . . . \n\nAll which needs to be said in the way of com- \nment on this final word of Dwight's as an editor is \nexpressed in a letter to him from Richard Grant \nWhite, written on receipt of the closing number: \n\" The sight of the last number of ^owx Journal, and \nthe reading of your valedictory article, were not \npleasant,\" wrote this able critic ; \" and this was the \nfirst time that either the Journal or your writing \ngave me any other feeling than one of pleasure. \nI had regarded \\ki^ Journal 2i% a Boston institution, \none of the spokes of the Hub. What will musical \nBoston, what musical New England, do without \nit.? For surely there is nothing that will fill its \nplace. I note with sadness the intimation that \nmusical New England does not want its place filled ; \nbut, if there is to be a special musical journal that \nis worthy to be published, of what other sort can it \nbe than yours } \n\n\"Your article is filled with manly good sense. \nYou mourn without whining, and yet say severe \nthings in a mild way. The sort of musical journal \nwhich you describe as your successful rival is detest- \nable. A mess of gossip and ' newsy ' paragraphs, — \nhideous word for a disgusting thing. But I came \nlong ago to the conclusion that what professional \npeople want is merely that you should serve their \ninterests. Your discussion of art, and your en- \ndeavor to teach the public, they care nothing about. \nThe singer wants you to tell how she was applauded \n\n\n212 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nat Boston, so that she may have a larger audience \nat her Providence concert. The pianoforte maker \nwants you to help him sell twenty more pianofortes \nnext year than he did this, and the publisher wants \nyou to make his publications popular. All natural \nenough, and right enough ; but they want you to do \nthis directly. They have no respect, or little, for \nthe indirect influence which elevates and diffuses \ntaste. They are not willing to play the long game. \n\n\" I regret very much this close of your valu- \nable editorial labors. You have done great work, \nand have that consciousness, to be sure, — some \ncomfort, but it should not be all. There is not a \nmusician of respectability in the country who is not \nyour debtor.\" \n\nIn Harpers Magazine, George W. Curtis spoke \nin the most appreciative way of the work which \nDwight had done for music, and said of his closing \nword in the last number of his paper, \" A more de- \nlightful valedictory it would not be easy to find in \nthe swan song of any journal.\" There will be \nfound elsewhere the first part of a letter in which \nDwight asked Curtis to give an address before the \nPerkins Institution for the Blind. The last part of \nit was an expression of his warm appreciation of the \nfriendly tribute which Curtis had paid him, as fol- \nlows : — \n\n\" George, how many times I have been on the \npoint of writing to you since that delightful week \nwe spent at dear old Tweedy's ! To me it was a \nsweet renewal of good old days, and I came away \n\n\nYEARS OF TOIL FOR MUSIC 213 \n\nfeeling that it must have added some time to my \nlife. Then, too, I wished to thank you for your most \nfriendly, hearty, and delightful talk about me and \nmy Journal in the ' Easy Chair.' It was so like you, \nlike the dear old George. I tell you, it made me \nfeel well, as if life wasn't all a failure. And now \nI am finding laziness agreeing with me too, too \nwell. You know I was always lazy in the matter of \ncorrespondence. I let you write me so many nice \nlong letters from Europe, and so seldom answered. \nNow I am indulging in society much more than \never before, and with a zest ; and truth is, society \nhere takes the form of music to a great extent of \nlate. And if I were not so very, very old, if it \nwere not my fate to have been sent into the world \nso long before my time, I verily believe I should \nconfess myself over head and ears in love. At any \nrate, I love life. Yet nearly all my old friends seem \nto be dead or dying, Robert Apthorp chief of all. \nWhen I write you again, I hope to be able to say \nthat I am well at work again; but how.f^ on what.? \nThank God, I am not a 'critic'! \n\n\n' I »> \n\n\nCHAPTER IX. \n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC \n\nA BIOGRAPHY of John S. Dwight, on a compre- \nhensive plan, would be a history of music in Boston \nfrom 1840 to 1890. His sketch of the history of \nmusic, in the last volume of \" The Memorial His- \ntory of Boston,\" simply recited that with which he \nwas personally familiar, and in a large part of which \nhe was in some way a participant. He not only \nreported the musical events of all these years, and \ndiscussed them critically in the Journal of Music, \nbut in many of them he was an actual participant \nin their inception and direction. This was emphati- \ncally true in regard to the Harvard Musical Asso- \nciation and its symphony concerts, the professor- \nship of music in Harvard University, the giving of \nmusical instruction in the public schools, the build- \ning of the Boston Music Hall and the securing of \nits great organ. These are only indications of his \ninfluence, — an influence which was for half a century \npotent for good. \n\nHis life was so intimately connected with the \nHarvard Musical Association that it is impossible \nto separate the two. As has already been seen, it \nwas largely through his enthusiasm and his earnest \nefforts that this society was organized. He was its \nfirst vice-president, and chairman of the board of \ndirectors. In 1841 he was chairman of the nominat- \ning committee, and he proposed that some one be \ninvited each year to give an address on music before \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 215 \n\nthe society. At this meeting he gave an address \non \" Music as a Means of Culture,\" which was soon \nafter published in pamphlet form. In succeeding \nyears similar addresses were given by George B. \nEmerson, William W. Story, and Christopher P. \nCranch. In 1842 Dwight was again elected vice- \npresident, and he also held the office the two suc- \nceeding years. In 1848 he was one of the directors, \nand chairman of the committee for the purchase of \nbooks for the library. In 1849 he was chairman \nof the nominating committee, and was elected a \ndirector, as well as chairman of the library com- \nmittee. On his motion the time of holding the \nannual meeting was changed from Commencement \nWeek to the month of January ; and the place was \nchanged to Boston, in order that the society might \nbe more nearly in touch with the musical life of the \nmembers. \n\nDwight was active in providing an attractive \nmusical programme for the meetings of the associa- \ntion, the first effort in this direction being made in \n1 84 1. There soon after followed a number of \nChamber Concerts in Cambridge, given under the \nauspices of the association. From 1844 to 1850 \nthree series of such concerts were held in Boston, \nthe first two at Chickering's warerooms, and the \nlast in Cochituate Hall. These were then quite \na novelty, proved attractive, and were widely imi- \ntated. \n\nThe coming of Jenny Lind to this country in \n1850 made it apparent to the lovers of music in \n\n\n2i6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nBoston that a large music hall was greatly needed \nin the city. At the annual meeting of the Harvard \nMusical Association, held in Boston, Jan. 31, 185 1, \nthis need was considered; and a committee, of which \nDwight was a member, was appointed to make in- \nquiries and report. In November, 1852, the great \nMusic Hall was opened with a grand musical fes- \ntival. Eleven years later, in November, 1863, the \ngreat organ provided for this hall was dedicated. \nIn iho. Journal of Music both these events were fol- \nlowed step by step, and with great enthusiasm. Its \npages contain a complete record of their inception \nand consummation. For their time they were \nevents of much importance to the musical growth \nof Boston, though both of them have quite lost \ntheir significance in the changed conditions of more \nrecent years. \n\nIn 1853 Dwight was again elected vice-president \nof the Harvard Musical Association. From 1855 on \nto 1873 he was continuously elected to fill this posi- \ntion. Almost as continuously he was at the head \nof the library committee. He took much interest \nin the effort to build up a musical library which \nshould contain the works of all the great masters of \nmusic, as well as such works of history, criticism, \netc., as would make a helpful reference library for \nthose interested in the thorough study of music. \nHe was hindered for many years by lack of money, \nby want of a proper place for such a library, and by \nthe absence of interest on the part of most others. \nFor a time the library was given an alcove in the \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 21; \n\nBoston Athenaeum. In 1867 the association se- \ncured a room for the library ; and from that time \non it grew steadily, increasing in value with each \nyear. The interest which Dwight took in the asso- \nciation during all these years was by no means con- \nfined to the library ; but it included every phase of \nthe work of the society, and all which concerned \nthe furtherance of the interests of music. He was \nactive in providing for the meetings held in Cam- \nbridge during Commencement Week, in making sure \nthat the annual meeting in January, now held in \nBoston, should be attractive, that the dinner should \nbe excellent and the speaking of the best, and that \nthe society should draw into its membership all the \ncollege graduates in Boston who were lovers of \nmusic, and especially those of Harvard. \n\nIn 1865 Dwight brought before the association \nthe question of doing something for orchestral \nmusic in Boston. It was proposed to form a Phil- \nharmonic Society among the members, for the prac- \ntice of such music. It was decided to hold four \norchestral concerts, and the committee in charge \nhad Dwight for its chairman. Now, for the first \ntime, Dwight was able to carry out his own ideas as \nto what should be done for the education of musical \ntaste. It was not the aim to make money, the \nreceipts being faithfully devoted to the improvement \nof the concerts. A fit audience was guaranteed by \nsubscriptions secured before the concerts began; \nand only the best works of the great masters — those \nof an established reputation — were to be presented \n\n\n2i8 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nThe first of these concerts was given the last \nweek in December, 1865, and for the first time \nrealized the wish Dwight had expressed in the Dial, \nthat there might be given in Boston a series of pop- \nular concerts of a high artistic order. Six con- \ncerts were given in all, and with eminent success. \nThe next season the number was extended to \neight ; and they went on steadily for seven or \neight years, increasing in popularity and success. \nThen came a change. The fund already accumu- \nlated became necessary to meet expenses, and the \nconcerts were finally abandoned in 1882. This \nwas due to the popularity of the Theodore Thomas \nconcerts, the Symphony Concerts sustained by \nMr. H. L. Higginson, and to the rapid growth of \nmusical interest in many other directions. The \nassociation accomplished the object with which it \nset out. It had thoroughly trained the Boston \npublic to know good music, and to demand that \nwhich was better than it could itself produce with \nits limited resources. It is to be said, however, that \nthe \" Symphony Concerts \" of the Harvard Musical \nAssociation form a most important phase of the \ngrowth of musical culture in Boston. They pre- \npared the way for much which has followed, and for \nthe first time almost gave complete expression in \nBoston to the musical genius of our century. They \nwere largely the outcome of Dwight's taste in \nmusic, and they developed his conceptions of music \nas a means of true culture for the people. So long \nas these concerts continued, he was the chairman of \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 219 \n\nthe concert committee, the programmes were largely \nprepared by him, and he had charge of the details \nof the management of the concerts. Whatever \nsuccess they achieved and whatever influence they \nexerted for musical culture was primarily due to \nhim. He had the valuable help throughout, how- \never, of such men as B. J. Lang, Otto Dresel, John \nC. D. Parker, and others of like ability. \n\nIn 1869 the Harvard Musical Association secured \nrooms at 1 2 Pemberton Square for its meetings, for \nthe better using of its library, and for social gather- \nings of its members. In 1873 Dwight was elected \npresident of the association, — a position which he \ncontinued to hold until his death. On June 15 of \nthat year he took up his residence at the rooms \nof the association, and henceforth he acted as its \nlibrarian. From this time until his death he was \nmost intimately associated with everything con- \nnected with this society, and he gave to it much of \nhis attention and interest. It was his wife and child, \nclaiming the warmest affections of his heart. In \n1886 the association moved to 11 Park Square, and \nin 1892 to I West Cedar Street. \n\nIt would be difficult to say to what extent the \nHarvard Musical Association was directly instru- \nmental in bringing about the chief object of its exist- \nence,— the introduction of music to a recognized \nplace in the curriculum of Harvard University. It \ncertainly never wholly lost sight of this object ; and \nit was urged from time to time with such skill as the \nassociation could command, and through such means \n\n\n220 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nas seemed most likely to lead to success. In time \nwhat Dwight and the association desired was \nbrought to pass, partly through constant agitation \nof the subject and partly through criticism of the \nmusic which was presented at the university. For \na number of years Levi P. Homer was employed by \nthe university as instructor in music and organist \nat Appleton Chapel. On his death, Mr. John K. \nPaine was called to this position, in 1862. In 1873 \nhe was made an \" adjunct \" professor of music ; and \nin 1876 he was made full professor, this being the \nfirst instance in an American university of the es- \ntablishment of a professorship of music. These \nsteps forward were carefully discussed in the Jour- \nnal of Mtisic, which did not hesitate to point out \nwhat was needed to put music on a true footing as \nan academic discipline and as a means of higher \nculture. In the '* Memorial History of Boston,\" \nDwight wrote with great satisfaction of this triumph \nof musical culture in this country, and of the noble \nresults which have been secured through the means \nof Professor Paine's labors at Harvard. This was \nin a large measure a consummation of what he had \nurged as the true purpose in organizing the Har- \nvard Musical Association, in his preliminary report \nof 1837. \n\nDwight was not less interested in the progress of \nmusic in the public schools; and this was a topic \nfrequently discussed in the Journal of Music, \nHe had no official position which enabled him to \naid in this important movement; but by means of \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 221 \n\naddresses and lectures, and through his editorial \ninfluence, he was able to do much to promote the \ninterests of this form of musical instruction. All \nwhich could be done by enthusiastic approval of \nthe efforts of others, Dwight did for this cause. \n\nFor many years he was a trustee of the Perkins \nInstitution for the Blind in South Boston. He \ndevoted much time to promoting its interests, used \nhis influence for bringing to it the help of others, \ngave much attention to the musical instruction, \naided in making the programmes of its commence- \nment exercises, at which he sometimes presided, \nand on several occasions wrote its annual reports. \nHis interest in this institution may be seen in a \nletter which he wrote to George William Curtis, in \nMarch, 1882, inviting him to give an address before \nit, which was duly delivered. \n\n''My dear George^ — With this I send you formal \ninvitation, on the part of the committee of arrange- \nments, for the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary \nof the foundation, by Dr. Howe, of the Institution \nfor the Blind. The day appointed is Tuesday, \nJune 13; the place, Tremont Temple. The whole \nblind school will be present and the exercises will \nconsist of music by the pupils (which, I assure you, \nwill be excellent), specimens of the way they read \nfrom raised print, brief exhibitions of the various \nclasses, some of their original compositions, decla- \nmations, etc., a contributed poem or two, short \naddress by Governor Long and perhaps other New \n\n\n222 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nEngland Governors, etc. But, chief of all, we wish \nto have an address, — not long, say half an hour, — \npartly historical ; and we all (committee, director, \nteachers, pupils) have set our hearts upon having \nyou perform that service. It would delight us all; \nand I know that you would find the occasion, the \nvery sight of those sightless children made so \nhappy, most inspiring. Director Anagnos (admi- \nrable continuer of the good Doctor's work) has \ndoubtless sent you the last annual ' Report,' con- \ntaining his most interesting history of all the efforts \nmade, in Europe and this country, for the education \nof the blind. With that for a guide you will easily \nmake yourself au niveau of the theme historically. \nA more responsive audience than the blind them- \nselves cannot be found. Dear George, do think \nseriously of it, and tell me you will come. Your \nown wishes in respect to the arrangements and con- \nditions shall in all respects be consulted. But \ncome, if you wish to have a good time, a memorable \ntime, and make a good time for us.\" \n\nOf his connection with the institution the super- \nintendent, Mr. Michael Anagnos, said : — \n\n\" Mr. Dwight took a most profound interest in the \ninstitution and its ministry to the needs of the \nblind. For eighteen years he served as a trustee, \nwith rare assiduity and devotion. It was chiefly \ndue to his influence that very little so-called popu- \nlar music was used in the school, and that the time \nwas mostly given to the classics from Bach to the \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 223 \n\nmasters of the present day. He not only urged \nthis policy upon our teachers with persuasive ear- \nnestness, but devoted his time and talent to the \ntranslation and compilation of books in raised char- \nacters for the purpose.\" \n\nAnother way in which Dwight served the inter- \nests of music in Boston was by the earnest and \nenthusiastic welcome which he always gave to \nmusicians, especially to young men of talent and \ngenius. He saw their merits, he praised their \nwork, and he urged their claims upon the public. \nIt is sometimes hinted, in conversation, that he did \nnot welcome such men if they were favorable to the \nnewer schools, and if they did not follow the \nmethods which he most admired. No one will find \nanything of this in the Journal of Music, not even \nthe faintest hint of it. When such men as John \nC. D. Parker, John K. Paine, Benjamin J. Lang, \nGeorge W. Chadwick, Arthur Foote, and William \nF. Apthorp came forward, the Journal of Music \ngave them unstinted welcome, cordial, unpreju- \ndiced, and enthusiastic.\" In that paper, for the \nyears 1861 and 1862, will be found as appreciative \nnotices of the organ-playing of John K. Paine, and \nof his appointment to the position of instructor of \nmusic at Harvard, as any young man, at the open- \ning of his career, could desire. When Mr. Paine \nwas made a professor of music in that university, \nwhen his important musical compositions were pub- \nlished, and when his works were given fit interpre- \ntation in Cambridge and elsewhere, these events \n\n\n224 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nwere welcomed by Dwight as true indications of \nthe development of music in this country. In one \nof the last numbers of his paper he spoke of the \npresentation of the CEdipus Tyrannus of Sophocles \nat Harvard, with Professor Paine's music, as \" the \nmost complete and thoroughly artistic presentation \nof a work of pure high art that this part of the \nworld has ever yet achieved out of its own re- \nsources.\" And he also spoke of \" the beautiful, \nstrong, fitting, manly music composed by Professor \nPaine.\" Had not the Journal come to its end so \nsoon after this event, there is no doubt this music \nwould have received fit interpretation at his hands. \nOne more illustration of Dwight's treatment of \nyoung men may be seen in the case of Mr. George \nW. Chadwick. His \"Rip Van Winkle\" was pre- \nsented in Boston in December, 1879. Dwight \ngave his opinion of it in these words : \" Mr. Chad- \nwick's overture more than justified the interest with \nwhich it was anticipated. It is a fresh, genial, \nthoroughly well-wrought, consistent, charming work. \nAs in most overtures with titles, and no opera to \nfollow, it may be hard to trace the story of Rip Van \nWinkle through it. . . . But all this is of slight ac- \ncount compared with the musical themes and prog- \nress and symmetrical unfolding of the work. The \nslow introduction impressed us as the finest part. \nIt opens rich and broad ; and, when the horns come \nin, it is positively stirring. The two principal themes, \nworked up singly and together throughout the long \nAllegro, are happily chosen and effective. The in- \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 225 \n\nstrumentation is rich and varied, full of pleasing \ncontrasts, never glaring, but all artistically blended. \nIndeed, the young man seems entirely at home in \nthe orchestra.\" This is certainly a most friendly \nand appreciative approval of the first work of a \nyoung man, and it does not justify the tradition that \nDwight opposed Mr. Chadwick because of his Wag- \nnerian and new-style tendencies. Most of the tra- \nditions in regard to Dwight's attitude towards other \nmusicians and composers, whom he is said to have \nopposed, probably have as little foundation in fact. \nNot less sympathetic was Dwight's welcome to \nmusicians from other countries who came to reside \nin Boston. Among these may be mentioned Racke- \nmann, Fries, Krelssman, Zerrahn, Jaell, Eichberg, \nHenschel, Perabo, LIstemann; and there were \nmany others. These were welcomed, good words \nsaid for them in the Journal of Music^ and their \nway made easy, so far as a kindly interpretation and \nan understanding approval of their work could do \nso. Especially was Dwight's attitude towards Otto \nDresel, one of the earliest of the Germans to settle \nin Boston, that of sincerest and most appreciative \nfriendliness. In Dresel he found a man after his \nown heart, an intimate friend, one whose musical \nconvictions and appreciations were of close kin to \nhis own, and a true intellectual comrade. Otto \nDresel came to Boston in 1852, was a cultivated \nand highly trained musician, a man of a most sensi- \ntive and refined nature ; and there naturally sprang \nup between the two men an intimate friendship. \n\n\n226 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nAfter his death, Dwight said of him : \" With an un- \nqualified conviction we are bound to say he was the \nbest accompanist we ever heard, — the most refined, \npoetic, sympathetic, — the most loyal to the com- \nposer, subordinating and forgetting his own person- \nality entirely, the most sure to catch and express \nthe spirit of the music, the most helpful to the \nsinger. . . . When all was right, and when he felt at \nhome, then his playing was in the best sense admi- \nrable, inimitable, so exquisitely delicate, so full of \nfire and strength and a poetic unction, so crisp in \nits long-sustained staccato, so song-like in its beau- \ntiful legato, and went so directly to the heart and \nsoul, that one wondered that he ever could be \neclipsed by even the world-wide celebrities among \npianists.\" Again : \" Perhaps no artist ever had \nin greater purity and strength, ever obeyed more \nuncompromisingly, more humbly, more unselfishly, \nwhat may be called the artistic conscience, than \nOtto Dresel. It reigned in him unconsciously by \nthe whole bent and force and habit of his nature. \nHis intensity in his devotion to a high ideal, in \nhis work and study and performance, in his unfold- \ning of the truth of art to others, was phenomenal.\" \nEnough has perhaps been already said in regard \nto Dwight's attitude towards the music of Wagner \nand others of his school. His opposition was not \nalways clearly understood, and he was sometimes \nmisjudged. On one occasion he expressed himself \nstrongly on the subject in a conversation which \ncaused Mr. Georg Henschel to write him a letter \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 227 \n\nof frank criticism in regard to his reported asser- \ntions. In reply, Dwight explained his own position, \nand showed that he did not wish to stand in the way \nof the music of Wagner being heard in Boston. \n\n\" Your informant,\" he wrote, \" must have wholly \nmisunderstood my half playful and (I admit) quite \nextravagant remark. I had not and could not \nhave the slightest wish to prevent your making a \nmemorial concert of Wagner music, and I should \nbe the last man in the world to vote for any prohibi- \ntory committee or board of censorship. You have \na right to make your own programme according to \nyour own feeling of the occasion, and I admired the \nearnestness and energy with which you set about it. \nWhat I said (either to or in the hearing of Mr. \nDannreuther) had no reference to this concert or \nthis orchestra, but was in continuance of some con- \nversation which began before Mr. D. joined us, in \nwhich I expressed the depressing influence which so \nmuch of the more ambitious modern music had \nupon my mind, — so many big words which, by their \nenormous orchestration, crowded harmonies, sheer \nintensity of sound, and restless, swarming motion \nwithout progress, seem to seek to carry the listeners \nby storm, by a roaring whirlwind of sound, instead \nof going to the heart by the simpler and divine way \nof ' the still, small voice.' And then it occurred to \nme that it might even justify a high court, — a \nworld's court of censorship, — composed of the great- \nest musicians, to pass upon such works before they \nshould come out, thus clearing the musical atmos- \n\n\n228 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nphere of many heavy clouds and of much murky \nmusical malaria.- It was a sudden freak of thought, \nand of course an utterly impracticable extravaganza. \nBut, when I meet a * red-hot ' Wagnerite, I am some- \ntimes tempted in a humorous way to say the worst \nI can upon the other side; and I fear it is some- \ntimes, as in this case, taken seriously.\" \n\nA curious episode in his connection with \"the \nMusic of the Future\" was that in 1880 he was \nappealed to in behalf of Wagner, who had a project \nof coming to this country to take charge of the \npresentation of his music-dramas. In the summer \nof that year he received a letter from Dresden, \nwritten by Mr. N. S. Jenkins, who said: \"Some \ntime ago I received a letter from my friend, Mr. \nRichard Wagner, of which I beg to enclose you a \ntranslation. Upon passing through Italy some \nweeks ago, I stayed in Naples (where Mr. Wagner \nis now residing), and talked over with him the sub- \nject upon which he had written me. I found that \nhe was sincerely desirous that his friends in America \nshould be made acquainted with his feelings regard- \ning a possible emigration to America, and prom- \nised, so soon as I had returned from a journey to \nthe East, to communicate with you. As I am not \nspecially interested in music, and am also by rea- \nson of a long residence abroad incapacitated from \ngiving an opinion upon the subject of Mr. Wagner's \nletter, I felt that I could only advise my friend to \nconsult the first musical authority in America, and \ntherefore take the first opportunity of sending you \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 229 \n\nthe enclosed translated copy. May I beg you to \nkindly send a reply to Mr. Wagner, Villa Augri, \nNaples. Mr. Wagner is not averse to having this \nsubject discussed among his friends, but he does \nnot wish it to become matter for newspaper com- \nment.\" \n\n\"Your letter of June 11 was duly received,\" \nDwight wrote in reply, \" and should have been \nacknowledged before this. But, being puzzled \nwhat to say, I have waited to consult various musi- \ncal people on the subject of Herr Wagner's letter, \nfeeling that I had received it in confidence and \ncould not publish it. \n\n\" I find that it affects almost every one who has \nread it, even those most inclined to Wagnerism, as \nan extraordinary and almost insane proposal. You \ndo me too much honor in alluding to me as * the \nfirst musical authority in America ' ; and you will \nsmile, no doubt, to hear that I by no means am \ncounted here among the enthusiasts for Wagner's \nmusic, but have been more identified with the \nopinions of such dissenters as Dr. Hanslick, Ferdi- \nnand Hiller, Ambros, etc. I cannot, therefore, very \nwell write (as you request) to Wagner himself. \n\n\" The most practical thought that occurs to me is \nthis : Mr. Theodore Thomas, the famous orchestra \nconductor, and thus far the most active representa- \ntive of the Wagner movement in this country, is \njust now in Europe ; and it is said that he went there \nwith the express purpose of visiting Herr Wagner. \nProbably by this time they have met and talked \n\n\n530 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nover the whole matter together. Mr. Thomas can \nspeak from a much wider observation of musical \nmatters in all the States than has been possible to \nme, who hardly ever go away from Boston ; and he \ncan better judge how far the soil is ready for such a \nplanting. \n\n''Your friend, the Rev. Mr. Twining, has written \nme a very courteous letter, saying all manner of \ngood things about yourself ; but of this assurance I \nhad no need, since several of my friends here, who \nhave resided in Dresden, knew you well. Among \nthese are Mr. Otto Dresel (now on his way back to \nEurope) and the family of Mrs. John A. Andrew. \n\n•' Naturally, Herr Wagner's letter, which I have \nshown to a few, has got pretty widely talked about ; \nand already the * irrepressible reporters ' have begun \nto put paragraphs about it in the newspapers. This \nmay make it necessary for me to print the exact \nthing. Mr. Twining in his letter to me speaks of \nyour having sent me for publication in my Journal \nof Music some statements with regard to Herr \nWagner's feeling and purposes as to coming to \nthis country.\" \n\nNothing came of this project, of course ; but it is \na remarkable fact that, in the midst of his success at \nBayreuth, when his fame was established, Wagner \nhad a desire to come to America. It is quite cer- \ntain, however, that he would have received a greater \nrecognition here than any he met with in Europe, \nhad he carried out his project. \n\nFor many years John S. Dwight was the musical \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 231 \n\ndictator of Boston, and what he approved was ac- \ncepted as right and good. He was, in a true sense the \nautocrat of musical taste ; and no one questioned his \nopinion, at least with any probability of getting \nhis heresy accepted. He had a remarkable gift for \ninterpreting a musical composition, bringing out \nits salient points as a work of art, and putting its \nleading motives into literary form. His aesthetic \nperceptions were keen, his artistic judgment sound, \nand his poetic appreciation of a high order. These \nqualities, along with a vivid imagination, and a \ncharming gift for literary expression, made him an \nable critic, and one capable of impressing cultivated \npersons with the value and correctness of his \nopinions. Those who knew him most intimately \nfelt that he had a wonderful power of expression as \na literary interpreter of music, and that his aesthetic \nsense of what was best in music was very great. \nTo them he always stood for the highest things in \nmusic. He held before them a high but sound \nmusical ideal, and they felt that his judgment was \nnot to be questioned. \n\nAt the time when he began to write, Dwight's \nword was of much value in making cultured people \nacquainted with the best musical traditions, in \npointing out to them clearly what music might \nbecome as a means of culture, and in showing them \nhow to translate music into its corresponding poetic \nmeanings. Especially for amateurs, those who re- \ngarded music simply as a means of culture, was this \ntask of real service ; and the effect he produced \n\n\n232 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\neverywhere upon amateurs was great. He showed \nthem what to expect in classic music, how to find \nit, and how to bring it to bear upon the higher \nissues of daily living. He preached the gospel of \nbeauty in a way to make it bear fruit of a truly \naesthetic kind. But his influence upon musicians \nof the professional type was also great, in part \nbecause he w^as a most appreciative and sympa- \nthetic listener, and in part because he criticised \nwithout harshness or ill-will. His presence at any \nkind of musical programme was stimulating to the \nmusicians ; for they knew he came not to condemn, \nbut to admire and approve. He was a personal \nfriend to every musician of any ability in Boston; \nand he was ready to commend true work of what- \never kind, and to see merit or genius wherever any \nwere to be found. The musical people knew he \nwould treat them well, that he was never unkind \nor unjust, and he always spoke sincerely what he \nbelieved to be the truth. \n\nFor a period of twenty-five or thirty years the \ngeneral public looked to Dwight to help them form \ntheir musical opinions. What he approved was in \nlarge degree accepted as right. This leadership he \nacquired because he earned it and was worthy of it, \nbecause he did not abuse it and rarely offended it, \nbecause he knew what he wanted and what he \nbelieved in, and because he had the gift of convinc- \ning other people of the importance and rightness of \nhis point of view. He brought other people to his \nway of thinking, in a quiet and convincing way, \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 233 \n\nwithout dogmatism, and with the conviction that all \nhad been cleared up and made luminous by his in- \nterpretation. In this he was a master of the art of \npersuasion, because he knew his own opinions and \nbecause he respected the opinions of others. \n\nThe younger men were not always satisfied with \nthe criticisms which Dwight put forth ; and their \nobjections may rightly find utterance here, not be- \ncause they are wholly accepted, but because they \nare necessary to a faithful estimate of the man \nwhose labors are under discussion. In the grow- \ning period when Dwight was most influential, \none of these men has said, it needed a man of \nliterary attainments, of good social standing, re- \nspected by every one, to supply a pointer, to direct \nthe way to what was best. Dwight filled this place \nadmirably, and influenced the public to see the \nvalue of music as a means of culture. Without him \nBoston would not to-day have reached its high \nstage of development in music. He had an enor- \nmous influence for good, did the real thing for the \nadvancement of music in his day, was strong in that \nhe never stultified himself, always was on the side \nof what was best and noblest, morning and night \nwas faithful to his own convictions, and finally made \nthe public see with him what was good by his sheer \nlove of it, his true appreciation of its merits, and \nhis immense persistence in presenting what was \ngenuinely true. He never cared for what was poor \nor in any way false, but he had an indomitable \nloyalty to what is genuine and right. \n\nDwight's influence was very important in rousing \n\n\n234 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nthe musical tastes of young people. They read his \npaper with enthusiasm, and a goodly number of \nthem were guided to a musical career by the stim- \nulus of his writings and personal influence. His \npure and lofty ideals of music quickened their \naesthetic appreciations and stimulated their imagi- \nnations. Yet the time came when he ceased to be \na leader to the young, when the age left him be- \nhind. His work would be of little value to-day, \nbecause his methods and his ideals are outgrown. \nHe had an excessive loyalty to those he learned \nearly in life to appreciate, but he was not able to \ntake up the newer and abler men. He enjoyed \nmusic because it was produced by the men he loved, \nand anything from them he approved ; but, if the \nname of Wagner, Brahms, or Chadwick, were given \nto the same composition, he would not accept it. \nHe was not able to make true comparisons in \nmusic, his technical knowledge was very limited, \nand his musical judgment was not trained and skil- \nful. He was stubbornly set in his own way, his \nmind was fixed, and he would not move out of the \nway in which he had begun to travel. He had \nmade up his mind that such men as Bach and Otto \nDresel were right ; and he had no patience with the \nnewer men, was not ready to give them a fair and \nhonest hearing. Not only did he think the music \nof Wagner ugly, but he had little faith in American \ncomposers. Twenty years before he died, Dwight \nhad come to the end of his usefulness, and the age \nhad left him behind. He was not in touch with \nthe newer time, would not move forward with the \n\n\nTHE AUTOCRAT OF MUSIC 235 \n\ndevelopment of musical taste, and could not under- \nstand the rapid growth of music as an art. \n\nThese are the judgments of approval and dissent \none may hear about Dwight and his work. In part \nthey are sound, and in part they are the result of \npique and jealousy. Without doubt Dwight held \nhis opinions very firmly and with earnest convic- \ntion. By temperament he was not a Wagnerite, \nand would not have been so, had he grown up in a \nWagner atmosphere. He was by nature an idealist, \nand belonged to the age when music was the voice \nof the interior life. The quiet, mystical, introspec- \ntive mood was his ; and he preferred the music \nwhich grew out of the same spirit. The more \nrealistic music of the later time he did not care \nfor, because it did not appeal to him, because it was \nobjective and spectacular, because it grew out of \nanother mood than that in which he lived and had \nhis being. This fact must exonerate him from the \ncharge of a stubborn unwillingness to give heed to \nthe newer music ; for, having given honest attention \nto it, he deliberately rejected it. Here was Dwight's \nlimitation as a critic, — that he could not rise above \npersonal preference, and judge a work of art by the \nstandard of universal canons. Yet it was because \nof this very limitation, this intense personal interest \nand enthusiastic love, that his musical criticisms \ncarried conviction to others. Dwight's power as a \ncritic lay in what he approved, not in what he \nantagonized. He was able to convince others \nthrough his love and enthusiasm ; and, where he \ncould not admire, he was powerless. \n\n\n236 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nCould Dwight have received a thorough musical \ntraining, could he have had the wealth which would \nhave enabled him to visit the music centres of \nEurope freely, and to devote himself without a ques- \ntion of income to writing what he felt and believed \nabout music, he would have given us as impor- \ntant and permanent work as any that has ever \nappeared in the way of musical interpretation. He \nwould have become the great interpreter of music \nto the English-speaking world. The work he did \nfor a few years in Boston, however, is needed for \nAmerica to-day, and always will be needed. Such \nmen as Apthorp and Krehbiel, with a technical \nknowledge and training which Dwight did not \npossess, because of the very fact that they write for \ntrained musicians, and use the technical vocabulary \nof the musician, do not reach the general public. \nDwight translated music into literary form, showed \nthe public what to find in it, and how to discover \nits profound spiritual charm and power. This is \nwhat no one else has done with anything like such \nbeauty of language or such persuasive skill to con- \nvince and enlighten. A score or more of his essays \non general topics connected with music, scattered \nthrough the pages of the Journal of Music and \nother periodicals, deserve a place alongside the best \nwritings of Ruskin. They have power, insight, \ngrace, and charm. They are not less needed to-day \nthan when they first appeared ; for they discuss the \nprimary and eternal significance of music as an art, \nits power to enlarge the meanings of life and to \npurify the soul. \n\n\nCHAPTER X. \nTHE SATURDAY CLUB. \n\nDwiGHT had a taste for club life; and he was \nsuccessively connected with the Transcendental, \nTown and Country, Saturday, and St. Botolph Clubs. \nThe first of these clubs began in the house of \nGeorge Ripley, in Boston, in September, 1836; and \nat the first meeting there were present Ripley, \nEmerson, Hedge, Francis, Clarke, and Alcott. To \nthe next meeting there came Bartol and Brownson, \nand soon after Dwight and W. H. Channing were \nadded to the membership. In time came also \nTheodore Parker, Margaret Fuller, Elizabeth Pea- \nbody, and others. Those who attended were drawn \ntogether by their common philosophy, and for the \nsake of the fellowship and sympathy they were able \nto give each other. Out of this club grew The Dial \nand Brook Farm ; but, when they were fairly under \nway, it came to an end. \n\nWhen Alcott was living in Boston, in 1849, he \nbrought together at his house a number of his \nfriends for purposes of conversation ; and this meet- \ning grew into the Town and Country Club. Its \nmembership included all of those who had been \nconnected with the Transcendentalist Club, and \nabout one hundred others. The club came to- \ngether at first in order to give a hearing to Mr. \nAlcott, and it was named by Emerson. There \nwere no dinners. A paper was read in the morning, \nand a discussion was held in the afternoon. This \n\n\n238 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nclub was described by Lowell, who was a member, \nas a \"singular agglomeration. All the persons \nwhom other folks think crazy, and who return the \ncompliment, belong to it. It is as if all the eccen- \ntric particles which had refused to revolve in the \nregular routine of the world's orbit had come to- \ngether to make a planet of their own.\" This state- \nment was perhaps more witty than truthful ; for \namong the members were Emerson, Garrison, \nPhillips, Hedge, Howe, King, Whipple, Higginson, \nDwight, Frothingham, and Alger. Higginson early \nattempted to introduce women into the member- \nship, but this movement Emerson brought to an \nend by crossing off their names from the list of \nproposed members. In a few months the necessity \nof having a very small sum from each member, \nwith which to meet the expenses of the club, \nbrought it to a sudden death. \n\nThe Saturday Club originated in Emerson's cus- \ntom of visiting Boston on the last Saturday of each \nmonth to take a look at the new books in the \" Old \nCorner Bookstore \" of Phillips & Sampson, who \nwere soon after succeeded by Ticknor & Fields. \nHe was also in the habit of dining on these occa- \nsions with a few intimate friends at the Albion \nrestaurant or the Parker House. This practice \nbegan with him so early as the time of the Town \nand Country Club, and was perhaps one of the \nresults of the manner in which its meetings were \nconducted. In his diary, under date of October 14, \n1854, Alcott made this record: \"Dine at the Al- \n\n\no \n\n\no \n\n\n*//, ^a/iM. \n\n\nt \n\n\n'tu^JL^c'^^ \n\n\nA/^ /3 ^-^*.-^, \n\n\n/ \n\n\naAu3 ^ \n\n\n*^^*^ ^ ■■Mil ^_ . ^ \n\nI \n\n\n^-t^4h^ rri:><^*i^^ \n\n\nO \n\n\nth^ t Cc^ ^ \n\n\no \n\n\n7- \n\n\n■^. iJ^^tA, \n\n\n£^y^A *-^ \n\n\nK-X -^ \n\n\nn \n\n\nI \n\nFacsimile of a Diagram of a Saturday Club \nDinner, in the hamhvrititig offohn S. Divight. \n\n\np^ ^ai^^i^:t: \n\n\n[over] \n\n\na \n\n\n^•-^^^\\o \n\n\n^.7^ HJ^-^. \n\n\n/>^, aO^/-; \n\n\n<^c^ //^^^kJi « \n\n\nv?^ U^U^ ^Vcc>«_^ \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 239 \n\nbion with Emerson, Lowell, Whipple, Dwight, \nHayne (of South Carolina), and Woodman ; and we \narrange to meet there fortnightly hereafter for con- \nversation.\" Mr. Frank B. Sanborn records in his \nLife of Alcott that in December, 1854, he was at \nthe Albion with Emerson, Dwight, Alcott, and an \nEnglishman by the name of Cholmondeley, when \nvarious literary topics were discussed. A few \nmonths later, during the last week in May, 1855, a \ndinner was given to Lowell, at the Revere House, \nby his friends. At the head of the table on this \noccasion sat Longfellow, and at the foot Felton. \nOn Longfellow's right were Lowell, Agassiz, George \nT. Davis, F. H. Underwood, Holmes, T. W. Par- \nsons, Estes Howe, Charles W. Storey, H. Wood- \nman, and B. Rolker. On his left were Emerson, \nEdmund Quincy, Charles E. Norton, J. S. Dwight, \nThomas G. Appleton, William W. White, John \nHolmes, Robert Carter, Henry Ware, and Professor \nBenjamin Peirce. It is evident that the personal \nand intellectual associations begun in the Transcen- \ndentalist and Town and Country Clubs continued \neven after those clubs had ceased their existence, \nand that from time to time there came together the \nmen who composed them, with others of the same \nintellectual and literary interests. \n\nIn his biography of Richard Henry Dana, \nCharles Francis Adams says that, when Emerson \nvisited the bookstore of Phillips & Sampson on \nthe last Saturday of each month, he met there \nHoratio Woodman ; and by degrees they got into \n\n\n240 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nthe custom of going to the old Albion restaurant or \nto the Parker House to dine. At this time Dwight \nwas accustomed to dine at the Parker House, and \nhe probably joined Emerson whenever he was \nthere. Then Woodman invited others, including \nSamuel G. Ward, a banker and one of Emerson's \nfriends. The next person added to the group \nseems to have been Edwin P. Whipple, the essayist \nand lecturer, then a rising literary man in Boston. \nWoodman was a lawyer, a man of attractive social \nqualities, and one who had a gift for managing \nsuch dinners as these. Mr. Sanborn says : \" He had \nno particular sympathy with the Transcendentalists, \nexcept as they became famous, but a certain love \nfor literature and literary men. He was also an epi- \ncure, knowing how to provide good dinners and at \nwhich Boston tavern his friends ought to dine.\" \n\nIt will thus be seen that the Saturday Club owed \nits existence to accidental causes or to the demands \nof intellectual fellowship. In 1854 it had taken a \ndefinite form, so far at least as it had become an \nestablished custom for a few literary friends to meet \nonce a fortnight or once a month for a dinner and \nliterary conversation. Longfellow recorded in his \njournal that he dined with the club Feb. 28, 1857, \nat the invitation of Agassiz, and was asked to \njoin it, which he thought he would do. At the \nmeeting of the club in April the fiftieth birthday \nof Agassiz was recognized. Longfellow presided, \nand read the poem beginning, — \n\nIt was fifty years ago, \n\nIn the pleasant month of May. \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 241 \n\nClever and humorous poems were also read by \nLowell and Holmes. In September, Longfellow \nsays that Charles Mackay dined with the club, that \nthe session was a quiet one, and that the heat of the \nroom took away all life and animation. He men- \ntions that in May of the next year he again dined \nwith the club, and that he felt vexed on findino: \nplover on the table, and proclaimed aloud his dis- \ngust at seeing the game laws thus violated. He \nadded that, if any one wanted to break a law, let \nhim break the Fugitive Slave Law, as that is all it \nis fit for. \n\nThe fullest and most explicit account of the \norigin of the Saturday Club was that set down in \nhis journal by Richard Henry Dana, the younger, \nunder date of Aug. 6, 1857. \" It has become an im- \nportant and much valued thing to us,\" he wrote. \n\" The members are Emerson, Longfellow, Agassiz, \nLowell, Peirce, Motley, Whipple, Judge Hoar, Fel- \nton. Holmes, S. G. Ward, J. S. Dwight, H. Wood- \nman, and myself. We have no written rules, and \nkeep no records. Our only object is to dine to- \ngether once a month. Our day is the last Satur- \nday in every month, and we dine at Parker's. A \nunanimous vote is required to elect a member. \nThe expense of the dinner is assessed upon those \npresent, and charged at the office, so we have no \nmoney affairs to attend to. Guests are permitted, \nbut each man pays for the guest he invites. The \nclub had an accidental origin, in a habit of Emer- \nson, Dwight, Whipple, and one or two more dining \n\n\n242 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nat Woodman's room at Parker's occasionally ; for \nWoodman is a bachelor, a literary quidnunc and \ngossip, or, as Gould says, * a genius broker.' Ward \nis a friend of Emerson's, and came. From this the \nclub grew. Ward, Dwight, W^oodman, Whipple, and \nEmerson being the originals. Agassiz, Peirce, and \nI were early invited to meet with them. This made \nit more of a regular thing ; and we established our \nverbal rule as to membership, guests, and expenses. \nLowell came in soon after, and then Motley and \nLonrfellow. The first formal vote we had for \nmembers was at this stage, for up to this time unani- \nmous consent was obtained by conversation. The \nvote brought in Holmes and Felton, which made the \nnumber fourteen, as many as we think it best to \nhave.\" \n\nThe Saturday Club was sometimes known as \nthe Atlantic Club ; but the two were quite distinct \nfrom each other, as Dr. Holmes pointed out. Long- \nfellow says that on May 5, 1857, he dined at the \nParker House with Phillips, the publisher, to talk \nabout the new magazine the latter was proposing to \npublish. The other persons present were Emerson, \nLowell, Motley, Holmes, Cabot, and Underwood. \n\nA letter written by Moses Dresser Phillips, the \nhead of the firm of Phillips & Sampson, and given \nin Dr. Hale's \" James Russell Lowell and his \nFriends,\" describes this first dinner given by the \npublisher to his contributors. Dr. Hale says that \nthis was \" the first of a series which the Saturday \nClub of Boston has held from that day to this day,\" \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 243 \n\nbut in this statement he is mistaken. Mr. Phillips \nwrote to a relative in these words : \"I must tell you \nabout a little dinner party I gave about two weeks \nago. It would be proper, perhaps, to state that the \norigin of it was a desire to confer with my literary \nfriends on a somewhat extensive literary project, \nthe particulars of which I shall reserve till you come. \nBut to the party. My invitations included only \nR. W. Emerson, H. W. Longfellow, J. R. Lowell, Mr. \nMotley (the ' Dutch Republic ' man), O. W. Holmes, \nMr. Cabot, and Mr. Underwood, our literary man. \nImagine your uncle at the head of such a table, with \nsuch guests. The above-named were the only ones \ninvited, and they were all present. We sat down \nat 3 P.M., and rose at 8. The time occupied was \nlonger by about four hours and thirty minutes than \nI am in the habit of consuming in that kind of \noccupation, but it was the \"richest time intellectu- \nally by all odds that I have ever had. Leaving my- \nself and * literary man ' out of the group, I think \nyou will agree with me that it would be difficult to \nduplicate that number of such conceded scholarship \nin the whole country besides. Mr. Emerson took \nthe first post of honor at my right, and Mr. Long- \nfellow the second at my left. The exact arrange- \nment of the table was as follows : — \n\n\nMr. Underwood. \n\nCabot. \n\nLowell. \n\nMotley. \n\nHolmes. \n\nLongfellow. \n\nPhillips. \n\nEmerson. \n\n244 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n\" They seemed so well pleased that they adjourned, \nand invited me to meet them again to-morrow, when \nI shall again meet the same persons, with one other \n(Whipple, the essayist) added to that brilliant con- \nstellation of Philosophical, Poetical, and Historical \ntalent. Each one is known alike on both sides of \nthe Atlantic, and is read beyond the limits of the \nEnglish language. Though all this is known to \nyou, you will pardon me for intruding it upon you. \nBut still I have the vanity to believe that you will \nthink them the most natural thoughts in the world \nto me. Though I say it that should not, it was the \nproudest day of my life.\" \n\nIn i860 James T. Fields, of Ticknor & Fields, \nthen the publishers of the Atlantic Monthly, break- \nfasted Longfellow, Bryant, Holmes, and others. \nSuch gatherings as these, called together by the \npublishers of the magazine to bring about acquaint- \nance and good fellowship amongst its leading con- \ntributors, and that suggestions might be secured as \nto its management, formed what has properly been \ncalled the Atlantic Club. It included many of the \nmembers of the Saturday Club ; but they were not \nonly not the same, but they had no connection with \neach other except as the same persons belonged to \nboth. In his biography of Emerson, Dr. Holmes \nsays that the Atlantic Club never had an existence, \nand that there had erroneously been supposed to be \nsome connection between the Saturday Club and \nthe Atlantic Monthly, On the other hand, Francis \nH. Underwood, who took an active part in bring- \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 245 \n\ning the magazine into existence, and who was the \nassistant or office editor for some years from its \nvery beginning, said in a letter to Dr. Holmes : \n''You remember that the contributors met for din- \nner regularly. It was a voluntary, informal associa- \ntion. The invitations and reminders were from my \nhand, as I conducted the correspondence of the \nmagazine. I have hundreds of letters in reply, and \nit is my belief that the association was always \nspoken of either as the Atlantic Club or the At- \nlantic dinner. Your very decided statement seems \nto me (in the ordinary use of phrases) erroneous.\" \nIn his biography of Dr. Holmes, Mr. John T. \nMorse confounds the Atlantic dinners and break- \nfasts with the meetings of the Saturday Club, \nthouofh Dr. Holmes himself did not fall into such \nan error. He did somewhere speak of the Atlantic \nClub as \"supposititious,\" and it is this statement \nagainst which Mr. Underwood protested. The fact \nseems to be that the Atlantic Club consisted only \nof the gatherings of the contributors to the Atlantic \nMonthly, on invitation of the publishers, who on \nsuch occasions gave them a breakfast or a dinner. \n\nIt was natural that the Saturday Club should \nhave been given the name of the Atlantic on the \npart of outsiders, who recognized the fact that many \nof the members contributed to the magazine. The \nSaturday Club was also sometimes spoken of as the \nLiterary Club, and it was popularly designated as \nEmerson's or Agassiz's club. It was also now and \nagain laughed at as \"The Mutual Admiration So- \n\n\n246 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nciety,\" probably by those who would have been \nrejoiced to have secured entrance to it. Of this \ndesignation of the club Dr. Holmes wisely said, \n\" If there was not a certain amount of mutual \nadmiration among some of those I have mentioned \n[as members], it was a great pity, and implied a \ndefect in the nature of men who were otherwise \nlargely endowed.\" In 1859 Richard Henry Dana \ndedicated his \" To Cuba and Back \" to \" the gentle- \nmen of the Saturday Club,\" and this fact suffi- \nciently fixes the name made use of by the members \nfrom the beginning. \n\nIn his account of the club, Dana says that it was \nthought best not to have more than fourteen mem- \nbers. His biographer tells us that this limit was \nimposed by Dana himself, and in a somewhat arbi- \ntrary manner. \" In other words, Dana, in this as \nin other cases, held himself high, and believed in \nexclusiveness. Accordingly, though never allowing \nhis position to be misunderstood, he had been \nliberal with his blackballs. The result was that, in \norder to elect any one, it became necessary for the \nother members to watch for some occasion when \nDana was away, and then rush in their candidate \nbefore he got back.\" \n\nThe original fourteen members of the club appear \non its printed lists in this order : Emerson, Whipple, \nWoodman, Dwight, Ward, R. H. Dana, Jr., Agassiz, \nPeirce, Lowell, Longfellow, Motley, Felton, Holmes, \nHoar. In 1857 the club seems to have been some- \nwhat more fully organized, and members were ad- \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 247 \n\nmitted by a formal vote. Prescott and Whittier \nwere admitted in 1858; Hawthorne, Thomas G. \nAppleton, and John M. Forbes, in 1859 ; Charles E. \nNorton, in i860; James Elliot Cabot, Samuel G. \nHowe, Frederic Hedge, and Estes Howe, in 1861 ; \nCharles Sumner, in 1862; Henry James, in 1863; \nMartin Brimmer, James T. Fields, S. W. Rowse, \nand John A. Andrew, in 1864; Jeffries Wyman, in \n1866; Edmund W. Gurney, in 1867; William M. \nHunt, in 1869; Charles Francis Adams and Charles \nW. Eliot, in 1870; Charles C. Perkins, in 1871 ; \nFrancis Parkman, Alexander Agassiz, Richard \nHenry Dana, Sr., Wolcott Gibbs, Horace Gray, \nand Edward N. Perkins, in 1873; Asa Gray and \nWilliam Dean Howells, in 1874; Edmund Quincy \nand Edward L. Godkin, in 1875; William B. \nRogers, William Amory, James Freeman Clarke, \nPhillips Brooks, William W. Story, and George F. \nHoar, in 1877; John Lowell and Oliver Wendell \nHolmes, Jr., in 1880; Theodore Lyman and Will- \niam James, in 1881 ; Francis A. Walker and Charles \nF. Adams, Jr., in 1882; Frederick Law Olmsted, \nRaphael Pumpelly, H. H. Richardson, and William \nEndicott, Jr., in 1883; William C. Endicott and \nWilliam W. Goodwin, in 1885. \n\nBefore this last date the club had adopted an in- \nformal organization ; and Dr. Holmes was the presi- \ndent, with his son as secretary and treasurer. In \n1886 William Amory made, a gift of five hundred \ndollars to the club ; and, in order to hold this sum \nof money, it was incorporated. The act of incorpo- \n\n\n248 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nration was dated Feb. i, 1886, and says that \"Oliver \nWendell Holmes, J. R. Lowell, John S. Dwight, \nEbenezer R. Hoar, Charles W. Eliot, E. P. Whipple, \nand J. M. Forbes have associated themselves with \nthe intention of forming a corporation under the \nname of The Saturday Club, for the purpose of the \nestablishment and maintenance of a place for social \nmeetings, and for having conversation and discus- \nsion upon historical, literary, scientific, and artistic \nsubjects, and to hold and expend any funds given or \nbequeathed for its support.\" \n\nTwo days previous to the date of incorporation \nthe club adopted a simple form of organization, \nwhich provided for a president, three directors, a \nclerk and treasurer, to be elected at the annual \nmeeting in January in each year. New members \nare to be elected by ballot ; the regular meetings are \nto be held on the last Saturday of each calendar \nmonth, except July, August, and September, at the \nParker House in Boston ; and the corporation is \nnot to make any assessment upon the members nor \nincur any debt. Following the incorporation of the \nclub, John C. Gray and Edward C. Pickering were \nadmitted in 1887; Thomas B. Aldrich, in 1888; \nEdward Waldo Emerson, in 1889; Walbridge A. \nField, in 1891 ; Henry L. Higginson, Edward W. \nHooper, and Henry P. Walcott, in 1893. During \nthe three years following, William Sturgis Bigelow, \nSamuel Hoar, Charles S. Sargent, and Moorfield \nStorey were admitted. More recent additions have \nbeen Charles Francis Adams, 2d, Charles R. Cod- \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 249 \n\nman, James M. Crafts, William G. Farlow, John \nFiske, Richard Olney, and Roger Wolcott. \n\nWhen the club was incorporated, Dr. Holmes was \nelected president, which position he held until his \ndeath. He was succeeded by Walbridge A. Field, \nchief justice of the Supreme Court of Massachu- \nsetts. Among those who have served as directors \nhave been Ebenezer R. Hoar and Charles W. Eliot. \nProfessor William W. Goodwin, of Harvard Uni- \nversity, has been the clerk and treasurer for a con- \nsiderable number of years. \n\nAn interesting incident in the early history of the \nclub was that Emerson, Hawthorne, and E. Rock- \nwood Hoar, living at Concord, to which the Fitch- \nburg Road then had no train running after the club \nbroke up, were obliged to leave in the midst of the \nsession or remain in town over the night and Sun- \nday. Under these conditions, Judge Hoar provided \na remedy by having his carryall meet them at Wal- \ntham, and convey them to their homes. It may be \nsupposed that this last part of the journey may have \nhad in store the best wine of the feast ; for Lowell \ndescribes Agassiz at the club meetings as listening \nintently to Hoar, \n\nPricked with the cider of the Judge's wit \n(Ripe-hearted homebrew, fresh and fresh again). \n\nThe reason for this night ride will be seen from a \nnote made by Emerson in his journal in 1862: \n\" Cramped for time at the club, by late dinner and \nearly hour of the return train, — a cramp which \n\n\n250 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nspoils a club. For you shall not, if you wish good \nfortune, even take the pains to secure your right- \nand-left-hand men. The least design instantly \nmakes an obligation to make their time agreeable, \n— which I can never assume.\" \n\nAnother incident was the formation of the Adi- \nrondack Club, which in August, 1858, made an ex- \ncursion into the wilderness of the Adirondack \nMountains. The party consisted of Emerson, \nLowell, Agassiz, Hoar, John Holmes, Wyman, \nW. J. Stillman, Estes Howe, and Woodman. Lowell \nwas the leader and planned the excursion, though \nWoodman seems to have been the practical guide \nand factotum. A rough hut was built on the shore \nof Follansbee Pond, flannel shirts were worn, fir \nboughs and blankets furnished the beds, and the \nfare was the fish and game of the wilderness. \nAfter breakfast each morning a mark was shot at, \nwhich Agassiz once hit, having never before fired \na gun, and steadily refusing to do so again. \nEmerson bought a rifle which he seems not to have \nused. A guide one night paddled him into the \nlake, and a deer was pointed out to him ; but he did \nnot shoot. This trip was described by Emerson in \nhis poem called \" The Adirondacks,\" published in \nhis \" May-day, and Other Pieces,\" 1867. He fitly \ndescribed the wild life of the woods, saying that \n\nNo placard on these rocks warned to the polls, \n\nNo door-bell heralded a visitor, \n\nNo courier waits, no letter came or went, \n\nNothing was ploughed or reaped or bought or sold. \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 251 \n\nHe describes how Agassiz and Wyman dissected \n\nthe deer, trout, and other creatures slain in wood \n\nand water; and he thus speaks of the manner in \n\nwhich the other members of the party spent their \n\ntime : — \n\nAll day we swept the lake, searched every cove, \nWatching when the loud dogs should drive in deer, \nOr whipping its rough surface for a trout ; \nOr bathers, diving from the rock at noon ; \nChallenging Echo by our guns and cries ; \nOr listening to the laughter of the loon ; \nOr, in the evening twilight's latest red. \nBeholding the procession of the pines ; \nOr, later yet, beneath a lighted jack, \nIn the boat's bows, a silent night-hunter \nStealing with paddle to the feeding-grounds \nOf the red deer, to aim at a square mist. \n\nLongfellow refused pointedly to go on this ex- \ncursion, because he had heard that Emerson had \nbought a gun, and he keenly felt the danger which \nmight arise from such an instrument in the hands \nof a philosopher, — one more familiar with the infi- \nnite than with powder and game. When asked \nwhy he would not join the party, he said, \" Some- \nbody will be shot.\" \n\nDuring the earlier years of the Saturday Club, \nHoratio Woodman was its purveyor, giving vol- \nuntary attention to the menu and the other necessi- \nties of its existence. He was a clever and a witty \nman, and by his genial comradeship won the friend- \nship of men who were drawn to him because of his \nkindly qualities. Dr. Holmes says that the club \n\n\n252 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhad no Boswell, and its golden hours passed unre- \ncorded. Mr. Adams expresses the regret that Wood- \nman did not serve it in this capacity, for he had all \nthe qualities that would have made him successful \nin such a role, adding that \" he had a craving for \nthe acquaintance and society of men of reputation, \nand indeed lacked only the industry to have been \na sort of Boswell. In connection with the Saturday \nClub, also, an abundant field of interesting gossip \nand reminiscence opened before him, had he known \nenough to labor in it. An amusing story-teller, \nwith a natural eye for character and a well-developed \nsense of humor, Woodman had at his command an \nalmost inexhaustible fund of anecdotes relating to \nthe men who in those days made the Parker House \nand its somewhat famous restaurant a sort of head- \nquarters. Though during the Rebellion he was suf- \nficiently active and prominent to have been offered \nthe position of Assistant Secretary of War, yet, in \nhis own mind, the great achievement of his life \nwas the founding of the Saturday Club, and his \nconnection with that club, which could only have \ncome about through his being its founder, was the \nthing of which he most prided himself.\" \n\nHoratio Woodman was born in Buxton, Me., \nMarch i8, 1821. He studied law in Boston, and \nafter his admission to the bar devoted himself to \nland-warrant business, and became a large owner of \nWestern lands. After the Civil War, through the \ninfluence of Governor John A. Andrew, who was \nhis warmest friend, he carried on an extensive busi- \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 253 \n\nness before the claims and pension departments at \nWashington. He was lost from the Sound steamer \non his way from New York to Boston, January 2, \n1879. \n\nAfter the marriage of Woodman, in 1877, it \nseems to have in part fallen upon Dwight to man- \nage the affairs of the club. Writing to a friend in \nOctober, 1877, he said: \"We had a delightful club \ndinner yesterday. William Story sat at my side. \nJ. F. Clarke, too, was there as a new member, and \nseemed radiantly happy ; also Bayard Taylor, who \nis giving a course of Lowell lectures on German \nliterature, — how that would have interested you ! \nI had a long talk with him and Dr. Hedge on* the \nNibelungen Lied ; and in the evening I heard him \nlecture on that subject, which was very interesting. \nHis lectures are crowded.\" Some of Dwight's plans \nfor seating the members and guests, preserved by \nhim, indicate who were present or expected on cer- \ntain dates. Thus, in April, 1873, his sketch pro- \nvides for Holmes, Dana, Adams, Howe, Dwight, \nEliot, Hoar, and Estes Howe. In May of the \nsame year twenty-one members were present and \neight guests. On this occasion Longfellow sat at \nthe head of the table and Agassiz at the foot. On \nthe right of the chairman were Robert Dale Owen, \nParkman, Perkins, Dana, Appleton, Dwight, Judge \nKent, Holmes, Adams, Senator Boutwell, Forbes, \nWyman, and Professor Gurney. On his left were \nEmerson, H. W. Bellows, Hedge, Henry James, \nFields, Eliot, Hoar, Count Corti, C. C. Perkins, \n\n\n254 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nCabot, Rev. Charles H. Brigham, H. G. Denny, \nWhipple, and Dr. E. H. Clark. The journal of \nRichard Henry Dana gives the reason for so large \nan attendance. \" Our club dined to-day,\" he wrote, \n— \"the largest number we ever sat down, partly as \nthe last of the season, to which many come, but \nchiefly to welcome Emerson on his return from \nEurope and Egypt. It was really rather a brilliant \ngathering. Yet, as we sit at a long table, and the \nroom is on the street and, being warm, the windows \nopen, we have no general conversation. All the \ntalking is in sets of two to four each. Towards the \nend of the dinner we change places a little. Emer- \nson looks years younger for his European tour, and \nis in good spirits.\" \n\nDana was wrong in saying that this was the last \nmeeting of the season, for at the June dinner Emer- \nson sat at the head of the table and Agassiz at the \nfoot. There were present Holmes, Brimmer, Peirce, \nForbes, Cabot, Dwight, Howe, and Hoar, with \nWeiss and Barnard as guests. At the January \nmeeting of 1877, Judge Hoar was at the head of the \ntable, and opposite him was Edmund Quincy. On \nthe right of the chairman were Holmes, Harding, \nC. C. Perkins, Brimmer, Estes Howe, and Dwight; \nand on his left were Emerson, Parkman, Gibbs, \nGray, Godkin, Norton, and Edward N. Perkins. \n\nA pleasant episode in the history of the club was \nthe admittance of Richard Henry Dana, Sr., the \nauthor of \" The Buccaneer,\" \" The Idle Man,\" and \nother works in prose and poetry, as an honorary \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 255 \n\nmember of the club, the only person accorded such \ndistinction. Under the date of Oct. 28, 1873, the \nyounger Dana wrote in his journal: \"Yesterday my \nfather had a great success and pleasure. I took \nhim to the club to dine. We had Emerson, Long- \nfellow, Agassiz, Charles Francis Adams, Sumner, \nHolmes, Judge Hoar, President Eliot, and others, \nour usual set; and, after a while, Emerson rose \nand asked a moment's attention, and said : ' We are \ngratified to-day by the presence of Mr. Dana. He \nhas a higher as well as an older claim on the re- \nspect and honor of men of letters and lovers of litera- \nture than any of us here, and we must not let the \noccasion go by without an expression of our feeling \ntowards him. I propose that, instead of nominat- \ning him for election as a regular member of the \nclub, which we would gladly have done years ago, \nwe unanimously declare him an honorary member \nand permanent guest of the club,' etc. Agassiz put \nthe question, and they all rose to their feet in re- \nsponse, and gave him a hearty cheer. It was very \ngratifying, touching, and in the best possible taste.\" \nDuring the first decade of its existence, at least, \nbefore other clubs in great numbers had been or- \nganized, the Saturday Club was of real service to \nits members. It gave them social recreation, and \nit brought them mental stimulus. It brought to- \ngether many distinguished people, as Dr. Holmes \nmentions ; and it was a place where the intellectual \nleaders of the city could meet men from other cities \nand other countries in a friendly and happy way. \n\n\n2 56 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n\" At one end of the table,\" says Dr. Holmes, \" sat \nLongfellow, florid, quiet, benignant, soft-voiced, a \nmost agreeable rather than a brilliant talker, but a \nman upon whom it was always pleasant to look, \n— whose silence was better than any other man's \nconversation. At the other end of the table sat \nAgassiz, robust, sanguine, animated, full of talk, boy- \nlike in his laughter.\" Mrs. Agassiz says that her \nhusband was especially attached to the club ; and \nDr. Holmes remarks that \" the most jovial man at \ntable was Agassiz, his laugh was that of a big giant.\" \nAround him were usually grouped the men of wit, \nand those who most enjoyed laughter and fun. In \nthis connection Jules Marcou, the biographer of \nAgassiz, has said that the members \"lingered long \nround the table, w^hile hour after hour passed in \nanimated conversation, in which bon mots and rep- \nartees were exchanged as rapidly as a discharge of \nfireworks, — an encounter of anecdote, wit, and eru- \ndition. At such times Agassiz was at his best, with \nhis inexhaustible bonhomie. With a lighted cigar \nin each hand, he would force the attention of every \none around him. Excited by the pyrotechnic wit \nof James Russell Lowell, Judge Rockwell Hoar, and \nDr. Holmes, Agassiz, whose vivid imagination was \nalways on the qui vive, was not a man to let others \neclipse him. Then would come one of his made- \nup stories, — a mixture of dream and science. If he \nthought any one in the company was doubting its \ntruth, he would look at him with a dumb request \nnot to betray him. On the next occasion he would \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 257 \n\nrepeat the same story without any hesitation ; and \nthe third time he told it he was sure that it really \nhappened, and was true.\" \n\nLowell said nothing about the club in his letters, \nso far as they have been published ; but he wrote \nto Motley, when ambassador of the United States \nto Great Britain, \" I have never seen society, on the \nwhole, so good as I used to meet at our Saturday \nClub.\" In his memorial poem to Agassiz, however, \nhe described the club with a poet's appreciation and \nsympathy. Of Agassiz and his place at the table \nthese are his words : — \n\n• Once more I see him at the table's head \nWhen Saturday her monthly banquet spread \n\nTo scholars, poets, wits, \nAll choice, some famous, loving things, not names, \nAnd so without a twinge at others' fames ; \n\nSuch company as wisest moods befits, \nYet with no pedant blindness to the worth \nOf undeliberate mirth, \nNatures benignly mixed of air and earth, \nNow with the stars and now with equal zest \nTracing the eccentric orbit of a jest. \n\nAgain he says of Agassiz : — \n\nAmple and ruddy, the board's end he fills \nAs he our fireside were, our light and heat. \n\nCentre where minds diverse and various skills \n\nFind their warm nook and stretch unhampered feet. \n\nI see the firm benignity of face. \n\nWide-smiling champaign, without tameness sweet, \n\nThe mass Teutonic toned to Gallic grace, \n\n\n258 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nThe eyes whose sunshine runs before the lips \nWhile Holmes's rockets curve their long ellipse, \nAnd burst in seeds the fire that burst again \nTo drop in scintillating rain. \n\nLater on in the poem he describes the breaking \nup of the club meeting, and says : — \n\nNow forth into the darkness all are gone, \nBut memory, still unsated, follows on, \nRetracing step by step our homeward walk, \nWith many a laugh among our serious talk. \n\nThen follows an account of his conversations \nwith Agassiz as they find their way homeward, and \nof the reluctant \" Good-night \" with which they \nparted from each other when the end of their walk \nhad been reached. \n\nDr. Holmes said that he was not able to forget \nthe very modest, delicate, musical way in which \nLongfellow read his charming verse addressed to \nAgassiz on the occasion of his fiftieth birthday; \nand Mrs. Agassiz says the poet had an exquisite \ntouch for occasions of this kind, whether serious or \nmirthful. If the wit and laughter of the club \nflowed around Agassiz, the quieter conversation \nsecured its opportunity near Longfellow, on whose \nleft Emerson most often found his place. Long- \nfellow often spoke of the club in his diary, and with \nevident enjoyment and appreciation of its meetings. \nHe seldom does more than mention his attendance, \nwith perhaps some brief word as to who was pres- \nent and what was done of special importance ; but \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 259 \n\nhis frequent reference to it indicates how much it \nwas in his Hfe for some years. \n\nEmerson was described by Dr. Holmes as usually \nsitting near the Longfellow end of the table, \" talk- \ning in low tones and carefully measured utterances \nto his neighbor, or listening and recording any stray \nword worth remembering on his mental photo- \ngraph.\" \" I went to the club last Saturday,\" wrote \nHolmes to Motley in April, 1870, \"and met some \nof the friends you always like to hear of. I sat by \nthe side of Emerson, who always charms me with \nhis delicious voice, his fine sense and wit, and the \ndelicate way he steps about among the words of his \nvocabulary, and at last seizing his noun or ad- \njective,— the best, the only one which would serve \nthe need of his thought.\" \" I well remember \namongst other things,\" says Dr. Holmes again, \n\" how the club would settle itself to listen when \nDana had a story to tell. Not a word was missed, \nand those who were absent were told at the next \nclub what they had lost. Emerson smoked his \ncigar and was supremely happy, and laughed under \nprotest when the point of the story was reached.\" \nProbably no one attended the club more regularly \nthan Emerson, for he greatly enjoyed the meetings ; \nand he was wont to praise the brilliant conversation \nhe heard there. His own attitude was that of an \neager listener, and he took less satisfaction in speak- \ning himself than in hearing the clever men about \nhim. In 1864, when the club held a Shaksperean \nanniversary meeting, he rose to speak, stood for a \n\n\n26o JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nminute or two, and then quietly sat down. Speech \ndid not come, and he serenely permitted silence to \nspeak for him. Emerson continued his connection \nwith the club until about 1875, always taking a \nwarm interest in the meetings until his failing \nspeech and memory made them no longer attrac- \ntive to him. \n\nNo one can doubt that Dr. Holmes furnished his \nfull share of the wit and wisdom of the club. He \nhas written of it in his biographies of Motley and \nEmerson, as well as on other occasions. In his \nletters it was a frequent subject of mention, espe- \ncially to those correspondents, like Motley and \nLowell, who were themselves members of the club. \nHe first mentioned it in his biography of Motley, \nand then said that \" it offered a wide gamut of in- \ntelligences, and the meetings w^ere noteworthy oc- \ncasions. The vitality of this club has depended in \na great measure on its utter poverty in statutes and \nby-laws, its entire absence of formalism, and its \nblessed freedom from speech-making.\" His biog- \nrapher says that outside of his own front door there \nwas nothing that gave him so much pleasure as did \nthe Saturday Club. \" He loved it. He hugged the \nthought of it.\" He could not keep its affairs out \nof his letters, and he gossiped about its doings with \na flowing pen. Evidently, it had a large place in his \nheart, because of the fellowship it gave him, and \nbecause of the noble men with whom it brought \nhim into frequent contact. \n\nIn writing to Motley in February, 1861, Holmes \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 261 \n\nshows how important the club had already become \nin his life ; for he says : \" The club has flourished \ngreatly, and proved to all of us a source of the \ngreatest delight. I do not believe there ever were \nsuch agreeable periodical meetings in Boston as \nthese we have had at Parker's.\" Writing to the \nsame friend in 1865, he again expresses his interest \nin the club meetings. \" What a fine thing it would \nbe,\" he says, \" to see you back at the Saturday Club \nagain ! Longfellow has begun to come again. He \nwas at his old place — the end of the table — at our \nlast meeting. We have had a good many of the \nnotabilities here within the last three or four \nmonths, and I have been fortunate enough to have \nsome pleasant talks with most of them.\" \"We \ncome together on Saturdays and have good talks, \nand pleasant,\" he says in 1871, \"rather than jolly \ntimes. Many of your old friends are commonly \nthere, — among the rest, Sumner, not rarely. There \nis a great deal of good feeling, I think, in our little \ncircle of literary and scientific people. I find Long- \nfellow peculiarly sweet in disposition, gentle, sooth- \ning to be with, not commonly brilliant in conversa- \ntion, but at times very agreeable, and saying excel- \nlent things with a singular modesty.\" Ten years \nlater many changes had taken place in the club. \nSome of the members had died, and others had \ngone away to Europe or were too far away from \nBoston to attend the meetings. \" I go to the Satur- \nday Club quite regularly,\" wrote Dr. Holmes to \nLowell in 1883; \"but the company is more of \n\n\n262 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\np-hosts than of flesh and blood for me.\" He la- \nmented the fact that Longfellow, Agassiz, Emerson, \nLowell, Hawthorne, Motley, and Sumner no longer \nattended, and added, \" I feel as if I belonged to the \npast.\" He proposed, however, with the aid of the \nyounger members, to keep the club alive until \nLowell could return to give some fresh life to it. \nHe had already lamented that the club was not \nwhat it was when Lowell had attended its meetings. \nFinally, in 1890, he complained that he hardly saw \na face of the old times except those of Dwight and \nHoar, \" where we used to have those brilliant gather- \nings.\" His biographer says that probably no other \nmember of the club felt about it as Dr. Homes did, \nand adds that, of all who sat at its table, he was by \nfar the most brilliant talker. We may accept this \nopinion without admitting the truthfulness of Mr. \nMorse's statement that, if Holmes had travelled \nlargely, he would have held the club in less esteem. \nSuch a statement falsely assumes that more of cos- \nmopolitanism would have made Dr. Holmes another \nman, and would have saved him from enjoying the \nmen he met at the Saturday Club. \n\nMr. Samuel G. Ward, a resident of Washing- \nton, is the only original member of the club now \nliving. The other oldest members are Senator \nHoar, Professor Norton, President C. W. Eliot, \nJudge Gray, E. L, Godkin, and Wolcott Gibbs. \nThere is not in the club at present so large a num- \nber of literary men as formerly. A member said \nof the club, in 1884, that Dr. Holmes was then \n\n\nTHE SATURDAY CLUB 263 \n\npresident; and he was always present at the din- \nners, and so were Judge Hoar and Mr. J. M. Forbes. \nThese three, with a few intimate friends, like Lowell \nand James Freeman Clarke, who came less fre- \nquently, kept up a steady fire of bright sayings and \njokes, to which the younger generation were often \nglad to listen in silence. Since the death of Dr. \nHolmes and Judge Hoar everything is changed in \nthis respect; but the dinners of the club still re- \nmain as social and perfectly informal as ever, though \nthe old leaders are gone. \n\nFor twenty years, beginning about 1856, the \nSaturday was the leading club of Boston; and it \ncontained most of the men of wit, brilliant parts, \nand literary reputation, who lived in or near the \ncity. It was a gathering of genial friends, who \nsought good-fellowship and intellectual relaxation. \nThe meetings were social, and not literary. No \nessays were read, and no lectures were given. \nAt one meeting of the club, when a reporter forced \nhis way into the room before dinner, and asked \nDr. Holmes what subjects were to be discussed, he \nreceived the reply: \"We do nothing but tell our \nold stories. We never discuss anything.\" \n\nExcept on rare occasions the literary part of the \nmeeting consisted of conversation only. The dinner \nwas the central object, and that was expected to \nbring out quite enough of social chat and conversa- \ntional stir of thought to give the meetings a real \ninterest. There being no rules to observe and no \nred tape to follow, the meetings were purely infor- \n\n\n264 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nmal, and therefore cheerful and cordial. All the \nmembers knew each other intimately, and conse- \nquently felt quite at home with each other, and \nready for the free expression of thought and senti- \nment. Already the club has assumed a consider- \nable importance in the literary history of Boston, \nand that importance is likely to increase as the \nhistory of the club is more fully known, and as its \nmembers are looked at from a time more remote. \n\n\nCHAPTER XI. \nPERSONAL TRAITS. \n\nDwiGHT was a small man, short, slender, with a \nmost genial face, kindly and benevolent. He had \ngreat sweetness of nature, was most companionable \nand sympathetic ; but he was sometimes irritable, \nand one of his friends said that he was on occasion \n\"pretty peppery.\" He was self-conscious, bashful, \nsensitive, and extremely diffident. It was not un- \nusual for him, especially as a young man, to blush \npainfully ; and this trait he never wholly overcame. \nIn general society he was shy and retreating, and \nhe never outgrew this extreme sensitiveness. On \nthe occasion of his first performing the marriage \nservice he was so much impressed that he broke \ninto tears, and had to pause to recover himself. \nUndoubtedly, this extreme bashfulness, want of self- \nconfidence and self-assertion, had much to do with \nhis retirement from the pulpit. One of his intimate \nfriends in the same profession says he had faith \nenough, and his beliefs were positive enough, but \nhe was too diffident. \n\nOne who knew Dwight for many years, and came \ninto close business relations with him, says that he \nwas very quiet and mild-mannered, had no bitter- \nness in his nature, but that he was very positive in \nhis opinions. He wasted no time on trivial matters, \ntold no stories, but was very enthusiastic about \neverything which interested him. This reserve or \nexclusiveness was not in any degree the result of \n\n\n266 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nhauteur or contempt for others. At heart he was \none of the most thoroughly democratic of men. \n\nLike all men of vivid aesthetic appreciations, he \nwas essentially an aristocrat in his intellectual pref- \nerences and in the exquisite love of beauty which \nguided his tastes. He had the artistic tempera- \nment, and he had that keen sensitiveness to what is \nhappy and beautiful which that temperament usually \ngives to those who possess it. \n\nMrs. Ednah D. Cheney, who knew Dwight at the \nperiod of his married life, says that he went into \nsociety much, and that he greatly enjoyed it. He \nwas a favorite in the cultured society of the Boston \nof that time, because of his easy way of accepting \nthings, and because of his literary and musical gifts. \nHe was a quiet, sunny, beaming person. If she \nmet him in the street, he always stopped to talk in \na cheery way, but always about subjects of intel- \nlectual interest, not about the gossip of the day. \nHis usual topic was books or music. \n\nDwight had very little practical talent, was al- \nmost helpless about the simple details of daily liv- \ning. During the time of his married life his wife \nwatched over him almost as a mother would over \nher wayward boy, for she had the practical gifts in \nwhich he was so deficient. He had no faculty for \nmaking money, had little appreciation of its value, \nwas all his life poor, and was not capable of getting \non in a thrifty and saving way of life. \n\nThe genial and sympathetic nature of our sub- \nject has been well described in a contribution for \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 267 \n\nthese pages from the pen of the venerable and in- \ncisive preacher, Cyrus A. Bartol, who knew Dwight \nthrough many years of intimate association. \" John \nS. Dwight was as gentle as the apostle whose name \nhe bore,\" says Dr. Bartol. \" Sixty years ago he \nstartled the audience he addressed by declaring \nthat God is not to be feared, as the Bible exhorts, \nbut only loved. When blamed for his opinions, he \ncould not make a harsh, but only a smiling reply. \nHe was musical in his writing and in every mood \nof his mind, which w^as copied in all the strokes of \nhis pen. A more harmonious feeling than he ex- \npressed could not exist. If he had any fault, it was \nthat he did not resent blame, and was thus not \nquite fit for this warring world. As he sat and \nlistened, he seemed part of the symphony or song. \nSuch a nature seems to come and go as unnoted \nas sunshine or the summer's breath. But, like the \ngenial elements, it moulds and softens the universal \nframe, outlasting every storm. Without a word \ncomes nature's bloom or fruit. Our subject had as \nlittle sound or show.\" \n\nThe sunny and hopeful nature of Dwight's char- \nacter has been spoken of, and that cheerfulness ap- \npeared in every phase of his life. He could not be \nconquered by disappointments or failures, but per- \nsistently looked on the bright side of life, and con- \ntinued to believe steadfastly in its underlying good. \nHe was one of the most hopeful of optimists who \never lived, and persistently refused to surrender to \nthe evil and the gloom of life. \n\n\n268 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nDwight's keen enjoyment of everything healthy, \nbeautiful, and loving, was a noticeable feature in \nhis character. Mrs. John A. Andrew, who knew \nhim intimately for many years, has said that he had \na great capacity for enjoyment, finding pleasure in \nthe little things about him, being keenly alive to \ntheir beauty or fitness or the mere charm of their \nexistence. He found pleasure in watching the fire- \nflies, when on a visit to the country in summer, or \nthe apples on the trees. His little country walks \nwould give him exquisite enjoyment, as he gazed \nat the water, watched a beautiful sunset, or took an \ninterest in the katydids. Another woman saw the \nsame thing in him, and has thus borne testimony \nto it : \"I think one of Mr. Dwight s finest traits \nwas his keen instinct for and appreciation of the \nhighest and noblest things in life, whether in art, \nliterature, or the character of men and women \nwhom he knew and met. He seemed to gravitate \nnaturally towards the beautiful, and to have a re- \nsponsiveness towards all the most ideal and finest \nsides of life.\" \n\nOne of Dwight's lifelong friends has said that \nhis \" love of flowers was a passion. He made us \nfirst acquainted with the Northampton flowers,\" \n,she writes, \" which were of any rarity. None of us \nyoung people had ever seen an Arethusa until he \nbrought us handfuls of them ; and I might say the \nsame of countless flowers of literature.\" Although \ncity born and bred, and a man of the city nearly all \nhis life, yet he was a genuine lover of nature. His \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 269 \n\ndelight in the simpler forms of the outward world \nwas of an almost exuberant character. Certainly, it \nwas intense and never-failing. His fondness for \nflowers was that of a poet, and he could never \nenjoy them too often or too keenly. All living, \ngrowing, happy things appealed to him ; and he \nseemed to appreciate them as if they were persons \nwho could respond with love for love. \n\nWhat one has called \"that benign, intellectual, \nsunlit face of his \" attracted many persons. John \nHolmes, the most intimate of his friends from the \ntime of their college days, has said : \" Dwight used, \nat rather long intervals, to visit me in the classic \nAppian Way ; and the beaming benevolence of his \naspect made quite an impression on my household, \nwhich still remains.\" \" He was more than a friend \nto me, and I revered him as I would a father,\" says \nthe principal of the Perkins Institution for the \nBlind. Another of his lifelong friends has said of \nhis letters : \" They were always interesting, and I \nwas always glad to get them. How could they be \notherwise from a writer whose spirit was so pro- \nfoundly impressed with not only the deepest musi- \ncal harmonies, but those also of the great world it- \nself in all its relations.? He was very often my \nguest, and his visits were always most welcome.\" \n\nOne who was a member of Dwight's family for \na time has written of him : \" I do not know any \none who can do justice to his char^.cer. He was \nunique, as pure and lovely a soul as I ever met in \nman. He needs many biographers, he was so \n\n\n2/0 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nmany-sided.\" One of these many sides of Dwight's \nnature has been interpreted by another friend, who \nhas written : \" I could weave my thoughts of him \ninto a romance. He was surrounded with a glamour \nfrom my youthful discipleship, when he was the \napostle of music ; and, when I came to know him, \nI never could feel in his company that Pan was \ndead. His touch with life — with sunshine, music, \npoetry, flowers, even food and wine — made me \nfeel inclined to look for the ' furry ears.' I am the \nvictim of imagination, and perhaps John Dwight \nwas something very different from this ; but he had \nthis suggestion, too, I know, — and this was why \nI loved him.\" \n\nDwight was not a student in the sense of being \na persistent questioner of any special form of truth. \nHe was not even a student of music in the tech- \nnical sense. His habitual life was not that of \nthe intellect, but rather that of imagination and \nfeeling. He lived to enjoy rather than to know. \nHe cared less for truth than for aesthetic fulness \nof being, to feel and to love what is beautiful. \n\nDwight's voice was pleasant and winning. He \nspoke slowly, with poise and equilibrium. He \nshrank from speaking in public, except in the circle \nof his own intimate associates. Yet, when he did \nspeak, it was with apparent readiness, slowly, with \nevident desire to find the right word, and with care \nto state his argument with precision. His conver- \nsation was joyous, almost exuberant with intimate \nfriends, hopeful and cheerful in the highest degree. \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 271 \n\nHe had a charming, playful humor, quick and sym- \npathetic enjoyment of all around him, the keenest \nrelish of free social intercourse, and a warm interest \nin all that was sparkling, bright, and amusing. \n\nIt may be truly said that Dwight had a gift for \nfriendship. The circle of his friends was a wide \none, and it included many of the noblest men and \nwomen in New England and New York during his \ntime. In early life he sat at the feet of Dr. Chan- \nning, and imbibed the spirit of that great preacher. \nAmong his friends, during the period of his life \nas a minister, were Samuel Osgood, Frederic H. \nHedge, Henry W. Bellows, and Charles T. Brooks. \nHe was a great admirer of Hedge, was much in- \nfluenced by his thought, and continued his regard . \nfor him to the end of his life. With Brooks the in- \ntimacy was a very close one, and was never broken. \nHe came close to Parker in his intellectual convic- \ntions, though so wide apart from him in his sym- \npathies. For a few years they saw much of each \nother, and sought each other's society with warm re- \ngard. All the men and women who were at Brook \nFarm came into the circle of Dwight's friends, \nand the cordial relation between them was con- \ntinued throughout life. One of the closest of these \nfriendships was that with George W. Curtis. Until \nCurtis settled in New York, their correspondence \nwas frequent ; and never many months, so long as \nCurtis lived, passed without an interchange of let- \nters. They confided in each other, and poured out \nthe secrets of the heart. From this time, too, \n\n\n272 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ndated most friendly relations with Emerson, Low- \nell, Holmes, Fields, Underwood, and how many- \nmore ! \n\nFrom the days of the Associationists and \nDwight's connection with the Boston Chronotype \ndates his friendship with Dr. S. G. and Mrs. Julia \nWard Howe. Dr. Howe had a general sympathy \nwith the associationist movement, enough so to at- \ntach Dwight to him ; and the acquaintance ripened \ninto the warmest friendship. In the Howe family \nDwight was almost domesticated, and was trusted \nand loved. This regard passed into warmest at- \ntachment and veneration on the part of the chil- \ndren and grandchildren of the family. Almost as \n\n, cordial was his relation with the family of Governor \nJohn A. Andrew and several other of his more in- \ntimate friends. He won their confidence, he se- \ncured their love, and they became most warmly \nattached to him. This was due in no small degree \nto his own sympathetic and affectionate nature, \nwhich drew others to him, because he gave himself \nto them with such fidelity and appreciation. \n\nOne source of Dwight's attachment to the fami- \nlies of his friends was his love for children. This \nlove was almost unbounded in its devotion and \nquickness of sympathy. Children trusted and \nloved him, clung to him with passionate attach- \nment, and confided to him their hopes and griefs. \n\n. This fondness for him remained when the girls had \ngrown into maidenhood ; and he had always two or \nthree maidens to whom he was devoted, with whom \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 273 \n\nhis friendship was intimate, who trusted him as a \ncomrade, and who had an unbounded admiration \nfor him. It was usual for him to take one or two \nof these girls with him to concerts. He advised \nthem as to their intellectual pursuits, and he exer- \ncised an important influence on their lives. It is \nquite unusual for old persons to have so many \nwarm friends among those of the younger genera- \ntions as he did. It was a great delight to him to \ntake the children of his friends to concerts, and \ngive them their earliest hearings of the music of \nthe great masters. He was never so happy as \nwhen with congenial companions, young or old ; \nand it is no wonder if at times this pleasure colored \na little too highly his enjoyment of events, but it \nnever warped his judgment when in a serious mood. \nHe was greatly dependent on such associations for \nhis relish of life, and friendship was to him an es- \nsential of his being. He lived in those he loved, \nand found life momentarily good or bad according \nto his personal associations. \n\nIt shows one of the nobler sides of human nature \nwhen we consider the cordial way in which Dwight \nwas sustained by his friends. Without money him- \nself and without the gift for making it, his friends \nstood by him in his enterprises for the promotion of \nthe interests of music, again and again helped him \nto the financial means to carry on his labors. They \nrallied around him whenever a pinch came, making \nsure that his labors should not come to an end, and \ngiving freely to him in such a way as to make the \n\n\n274 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ninterests of culture, and not his own personal needs, \nthe object of their help. Their devotion to him \nthrough many years shows his own winning per- \nsonal qualities in the brightest light, partly because \nhe could win and hold such loyalty, and partly \nbecause he could so completely lose sight of him- \nself in that for which he lived, — the promotion \nof the highest interests of art. Even the young \npeople who loved him so well felt that it was an \nhonor to help such a man in his devotion to music; \nand some of them once held a concert, from the \nproceeds of which they handed him six hundred \ndollars. \n\nIt may be said of Dwight that he knew how to \ngive with enthusiasm, as well as how to receive \nwith self-respect. No one could have been more \nready to help others than he, or oftener moved to \ngive a helping hand. When the library of one \nof his friends was offered for sale because ill-health \nhad brought poverty, Dwight set to work and se- \ncured the aid which made that sacrifice unnecessary. \nAmong the visitors at Brook Farm was Signora \nElisa Biscaccianti, a beautiful Italian singer. Mis- \nfortunes came to her in later years. She wrote to \nDwight of her troubles, and he did all which was \npossible to aid her in her poverty and sorrow. \nJoseph Trenkle was a young musician in Boston of \ngreat promise. Disease came upon him, and he was \nobliged to seek a milder climate. Dwight organized \na concert, sent his friend a generous contribution, \nwhich enabled the young man to settle in California \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 275 \n\nand to do much for music before consumption \nclaim.ed him. \n\nFrom his position as the widely known leader of \nthe musical interests of Boston, Dwight was con- \nstantly appealed to for advice and help. He was \nmost generous in giving his own time to the friends \nwho thus called upon him, and not less freely to \nthe strangers, who were many. There came re- \nquests for advice as to teachers, musical instru- \nments, and the study of music. Facts historical, \nbiographical, and literary were desired. Aid for \nthis, that, and the other, was requested. Among \nthese requests was one from George Ticknor, ask- \ning for a list of two or three hundred of the best \nbooks on music, such as ought to be purchased for \nthe Boston Public Library. Another was from \nAndrew D. White, asking his aid in securing a \nsuitable person to fill the professorship of music in \nCornell University. Still another was from Henry \nWard Beecher, asking advice as to a musical con- \nductor for his church. To all these requests Dwight \ngave sympathetic reply, and such help as was in \nhis power. They came frequently, because it was \nknown that he was ready to respond, and because \nhe gave as freely as he received. His was not a \nstinted sympathy, but responsive and intelligent. \nHe was very generous, and very fond of making \npresents of rare books or of fine editions of Beet- \nhoven's sonatas. When Mrs. Anagnos died, he \npresided at a memorial service in a most sympa- \nthetic and inspiring manner, reading a poem of \ncordial appreciation of her gifts as a woman. \n\n\n2/6 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nThis gift for friendship put Dwight into kindly \nrelations with the musicians of Boston, and won for \nhim their most cordial support. They criticised \nhim on occasion, and sometimes sharply ; but they \nknew his generous nature, and that he desired to \nhelp them in every way possible. They trusted \nhim therefore, and gave him their admiration and \nsupport. \n\nAt the Symphony concerts it was Dwight's habit \nto sit in the front seat of the left balcony, very near \nthe stage. At the Handel and Haydn concerts he \nalways had the same seat, about the middle of the \nfloor. He took no notes, was always promptly in \nhis seat, and was very impatient if obliged to wait \nfor those he invited to accompany him. He stud- \nied the composition beforehand, trusted to his im- \npressions, and wrote fluently of what he had heard \nand felt. His writing, when at its best, had the \nappearance of being produced easily and in elo- \nquent strain, the outgushing of a full mind and \ndeep feeling. In fact, he often wrote slowly, with \ncareful refinement and deliberation, correcting and \nrewriting with much painstaking. \n\nWhen all went as he desired, Dwight was a gen- \nerous and amiable presiding officer; but, when any- \nthing he decidedly disapproved came forward, he \nalways managed to prevent its acceptance. This \nfeature of his character is shown clearly in some \nreminiscences furnished by Mr. William F. Ap- \nthorp, who says : — . \n\n\" The time when I saw most of Dwight was from \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 277 \n\ntwenty to twenty-five years ago, — before I was mar- \nried ; and I used to pass a good many evenings in \nhis company, into the small hours, across a table in \nthe Parker House restaurant. But with my mar- \nriage came a truce to das Wirthshauslaufeji; and, \nas I got busier and busier, I found less and less \nopportunity to share in that dolce far niente which \nmade up a good part of his life. I have no definite \nrecollection of any of our old Parker House chats. \nThey were too long ago, and I really don't think \nwe talked about much of anything in particular. \nHe never talked as he wrote. \n\n\" After his election as president of the Harvard \nMusical Association, I continued to meet him a \ngood deal on committees, of several of which I \nwas a member in those days. He always presided, \nand I think I could swear before a jury that in no \nsingle instance did any pressure succeed in induc- \ning him to put a motion which he did not like. \nHis obstinacy in this matter was so marked that it \nhas crowded all else out of my memory. \n\n\" I do, however, remember one comical incident \nwhich well exemplified a certain mental trait of his. \nWe were sitting in committee one afternoon, in the \nold Harvard Musical rooms in Pemberton Square, \nand discussing things rather lazily and desultorily, \nas was our wont. James T. Fields — who was a \nmember of the Association, though not on the com- \nmittee— happened to drop in, to get a book out of \nthe library. Finding a committee in session, he \nwas about to beat a hasty retreat, when Dwight \ncalled out to him : — \n\n\n2^% JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\n\"*0h, don't go, Fields, — don't go. You won't \ntrouble us in the least. We will make you member \nof the committee pro tern. Sit down and tell us \nsomething.' \n\n\" Fields accepted the invitation, and, after a little \nchit-chat, said : — \n\n\" ' By the way, gentlemen, I have just seen some- \nthing on a publisher's price-list that struck me as \nsomething out of the common. It was the title of \na song, — \" Give my chewing-gum to Gerty.'* I have \nbeen bothering my head ever since to try to imag- \nine what on earth the next line can be.' \n\n\"We all laughed; and, just as the conversation \nwas about to turn to other topics, Dwight called \nout: — \n\n\" ' Fields, that was a strange freak of fancy, — that \ntitle you just mentioned. What could have sug- \ngested such a curious connection of ideas .f* Let me \nsee, what was the title 1 ' \" \n\n*\"'*Give my chewing-gum to Gerty,\" ' repeated \nFields. \n\n\" * Strange, very strange, indeed,' Dwight went on. \n' Chewing-gum,^ yes, I can understand chewing- \ngum being made the subject of a popular song now- \nadays. People make songs on pretty much every- \nthing. But what bothers me is the other part, — why \nespecially to Goethe ? ' \n\n\" As an instance of Dwight's immovableness, the \nlate Otto Dresel once told me : ' The other day I \nmade up my mind that I would, for once, force \nDwight to make the first move, even at the risk \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 279 \n\nof my life. It was an awful afternoon, with east \nwind and rain and sleet and everything horrible. \nI met him on Tremont Street, just opposite the \nWest Street gate. I stopped him in the middle of \nthe street, and began talking with him. There we \nstood, in the middle of the crossing, in all the wind \nand cold rain, with the horse-cars running on one \nside of us, and the carriages rushing on the other. \nWell, — will you believe it? — after half an hour by \nthe Park Street clock, I had to give in, or I should \nbe dead now with pneumonia. Dwight would not \nbudge, nor give the faintest sign of intending ever \nto budge ! I had to make the first move, after all.' \n*' Another incident occurs to me, illustrating \nDwight's good nature, and his willingness to laugh \nat a joke against himself. It was at a meeting of \nthe Harvard Musical Association concert com- \nmittee for the purpose of assigning seats to the \nsubscribers to the symphony concerts. The seats \nwere to be drawn by lot. For once, Dwight made \nthe unusual concession to parliamentary law of \nmoving that S. Lothrop Thorndike should take the \nchair, as he himself would like to take part in the \ndiscussion of certain matters. When Thorndike \nhad been voted into the chair, Dwight made a mo- \ntion that, as he (Dwight) really managed the con- \ncerts, he might be allowed to select his seats before \nthe drawing by lot, it being important to him to \nhave seats from which he could easily leave the hall \nat any time during the concert, as he often had to \nconsult with the musicians. Thorndike imme- \n\n\n28o JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\ndiately said, ' Gentlemen, you have heard the mo- \ntion, which is to the effect that, in consequence of \nthe necessity Mr. Dwight labors under of having to \ngo out every now and then to see a man,' — A \nshout of laughter interrupted him, and Dwight was \nthe heartiest laugher there.\" \n\nIn religion Dwight was a follower of Emerson \nand Parker, with the one repudiating all formal- \nism and creed, and with the other holding to the \nconviction that Christianity is the absolute religion. \nHe was of the same mind with Emerson in his \nrepudiation of the organized religion about him, \nnot attending church for many years, and holding \ntoward the churches an attitude of dislike of their \nmethods and spirit. He hated all formality in re- \nligion ; but his attitude in this respect, as one of \nhis most intimate friends has said, was quite unlike \nhis sweet and generous self. \n\nIf Dwight was mistaken in his religious attitude, \nit was in believing too much and not in believing \ntoo little. He repudiated the historic and conven- \ntional, but with the conviction that he was thereby \nholding all the more firmly to what is spiritual and \neternal. He agreed with Emerson in holding that \nthe communion of the soul with God is too sacred \nfor public prayer, and he could not believe that \nspiritual trust gives any sanction to petitions for \nmaterial blessings. He did not hold with the sci- \nentist that prayer is of no avail, but that it is the \nprivate communion of the soul with God, — too holy \nfor any outward expression, too interior in its spir- \nitual import for any formal utterance. \n\n\nPERSONAL TRAITS 281 \n\nTheodore Parker's belief that in its great spir- \nitual teachings Christianity Is the absolute religion \nwas also accepted by Dwight. This opinion he \nvery clearly stated in his essay on Common Sense, \nwhere he asks : \" What is the religion of common \nsense ? Is not that — I ask with reverence — the \nproud distinction of Christianity ? The simplest of \nall religions, the faith which Jesus of Nazareth \nlived and taught, finds its response and welcome in \nthe nobler common sense of man. I mean the \nChristianity of Christ himself, as illustrated in the \nwhole spirit of his own short life on earth, and not \nthat of the churches, creeds, and artificial, subtle \nschemes of dogma.\" \n\nIt will be seen that, in these opinions, Dwight \nput himself Into sympathy with the mystics of all \nages. He was not a rationalist, for he found the \ncentre of his faith In feeling ; and the emotional \nlife afforded him whatever is best in religion. He \noverlooked In some measure the great need men \nhave for union with each other In worship, and that \nsuch union necessitates what Is conventional or \nwhat all can agree upon as fit symbol for the in- \nward conviction. He was right enough, however, \nin insisting that the soul Is its own witness of God, \nand that all forms are nothing more than forms, as \noften hiding as revealing the Interior fact. His \nappeal to feeling was of great Interest, because he \nmade music his chosen form for the interpretation \nof the soul's needs. \n\n\nCHAPTER XII. \nTHE CLOSING YEARS. \n\nIt was not left for Dwight to undertake any \ngreat task after the closing of the Journal of Music, \nYet the dozen years more of his life were busy \nones, and quite in harmony with those which had \npreceded. He wrote several papers on the history \nof music in Boston, and he produced several essays \nof much value on topics which had always in- \nterested him. He continued his work as presi- \ndent of the Harvard Musical Association, and he \ngave much attention to the improvement of its \nlibrary. \n\nIn July, 1880, occurred the death of his lifelong \nfriend, George Ripley, who had perhaps been \nnearer to him than any other of his many friends. \nThey were of one mind on nearly all questions \nwhich interested them both, for many years they \nhad counselled and cheered each other, and they \nhad been closely associated under circumstances \nwhich cemented their affection. Dwight was asked \nby Mrs. Ripley to act as one of the pall-bearers at \nthe funeral, and he sent this letter in reply : — \n\n\" I feel very grateful to you for thinking of me \nfor one of the pall-bearers at the funeral of my ever- \ndear and honored friend and old-time associate, the \ncherished noble partner of your life so many years, \nGeorge Ripley. The name is sacred to me; and \nit seemed to me a sacred duty to go at once and \njoin with other old friends in those last, solemn. \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 283 \n\ntender services about his grave. But a moment's \nreflection showed me that, in the critical condition \nof my affairs, — demanding all my time, — and in \nthe far from sound condition of my health, it would \nbe very imprudent, and might at the last moment \nprove impossible for me to make the journey in the \nextreme heat to New York. So, rather than an- \nswer doubtfully, I telegraphed to Mr. Reid as I did. \nIt was done most reluctantly. My heart yearned \nto be there. It would have been good for my own \nsoul to share in the last words of farewell and of \npeace to that hard-working, brave, true, noble friend. \nAs it was, I could but be present in the spirit ; and \nI passed that hour at my piano, playing from \nBach's ' Passion Music ' several chorals, and the \nprofoundly sad yet tender, hopeful Schluss-chor, \n' Around thy tomb here sit we weeping.' \n\n\" Indeed, my haunting thought through all these \ndays has been of him. He was, on the whole, the \nbest friend I ever had ; and, though I have not \nseen him for some years, I have never ceased to \nthink of him with love and gratitude for all the \nencouragement, the quickening influence, the wise \ncounsel, and the happiness which I derived from in- \ntercourse wath him during so many of the best years \nof my life, before and during the Brook Farm days, \nwith delightful (only too infrequent) meetings since. \nI now repent me sadly that I never made the effort \nto get on to New York during \\he last year or two, \nand look upon his benignant face and listen to his \ncheerful voice again. I had hoped even yet, after \n\n\n284 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nMr. Allen's rather favorable report of his condition \nsome ten days ago, to see him once more alive. \nAlas, too late ! \n\n\"It must be very grateful to you, as it is to me, \nto read on all sides such heartfelt tributes as his \nrich, beneficent, well-rounded life and labors have \ncalled forth. I trust the record will be embodied \nin a biography complete enough to be his worthy \nmonument. Accept my heartfelt sympathies in your \ngreat loss, — for comfort, what could you have \ngreater than the thought of what he was and did ? \n— and believe me sincerely your friend.\" \n\nTo the end of his life Dwight continued to make \nhis summer outings in Newport, Gardiner, and else- \nwhere. A letter written to one of his sisters in \nAugust, 1882, may find a place here: — \n\n\" My week at Newport was very enjoyable ; and \nI felt very much refreshed by it, in spite of the great \nheat and drought there also. The Tweedys were \nas good and kind as ever, and I saw many pleasant \npeople. One day Brooks and the new young \npastor of the Channing Church, Mr. Wendte, dined \nwith us ; also Mrs. Howe and Mr. John Field, a most \ngenial, entertaining man, — an intimate friend of \nthe J. R. Lowells, — who has been living nine years \nabroad, knows everybody, and has much to tell. \nHe gave us one good anecdote of Carlyle, which he \nhad direct from Robert Browning. It seems the \nqueen one day suggested to Dean Stanley that it \nwould be quite nice if he would bring together at \nthe deanery some of the literary celebrities, and ask \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 285 \n\nher to meet them in a quiet social way. He did so. \nThere were present Tennyson, Carlyle, Browning, \nand others. In the course of the evening the con- \nversation turned on poverty, its alarming increase, \nand the question of the remedy. ' You must ex- \ncept Scotland,' said Carlyle. ' We have no pov- \nerty in Scotland.' Said the queen, ' I beg your \npardon, but I have frequently had occasion to re- \nlieve it there myself.' ' Then,' gruffly returned \nCarlyle, ' if there is any, it must be of your own \nmaking.' The queen, on retiring, passed near \nBrowning, and said to him in a low tone, ' What \na terrible old man ! ' \n\nAppropriate to this place is a letter which \nDwight received on the occasion of his seventieth \nbirthday : — \n\nCambridge^ May 12, or make it the 13/\"//, 1883. \n\nMy dear John, — I greet you on your arrival with \nme at the Scriptural age of threescore and ten,— \nyou my junior by two months. Can you believe it.? \nWe have known each other fifty years! The \nwhirligig of time, with its ceaseless revolutions, \nchanges, absences from each other, and so on, has \nnot, I think, worn away in the least our old friend- \nship. We were drawn together from the first by \nintellectual sympathies, by our studies in the Divin- \nity School, by our tendencies towards freer, fresher, \nmore ideal views of literature and life, in our aspira- \ntions after the true, the good, the beautiful, and, \nnot least, by our common love of music. We were \nyouths then. Are we much older now.? Wiser, \n\n\n286 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nlet us hope, but both young at the core of our \nhearts. \n\nLet us bless the good Powers that have pre- \nserved us for this meeting to celebrate your birth- \nday. I shall be delighted to come, and am ever, \nwith remembrance of the old days and the new, \nyours faithfully, Christopher P. Cranch. \n\nIn 1884 Dwight's portrait was painted by Miss \nCaroline Cranch, and she found him a quiet and \nhelpful sitter. It was secured by his friends, and \nhung in one of the rooms of the Harvard Musical \nAssociation. In a letter to her, on this occasion, \nhe said : \" I am greatly pleased on your account, \nas well as my own, that the picture was so appre- \nciated by the Association of which I am presi- \ndent ; for I could not be reconciled to the idea of \nhaving all your skill and labor bestowed upon my \nunworthy self with no remuneration. I know not \nwhat you have received, but I fear not half as much \nas you had a fair right to demand. When I am \nhung up on the wall (with the other old masters, \nHandel, Gluck, etc.), I trust you will come up and \nsee us. In writing a day or two since to G. W. C, \nI told him about the portrait and the presentation.\" \n\nIn his reply, Curtis said: \"It was very good to \nsee your familiar hand again, and unchanged, and, \nbest of all, to read your strong, clear, masterly, and \ndelightful plea for the true saving grace of human- \nity, common sense. It is a most admirable piece of \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 287 \n\nwork, and a host of readers will wonder that they \nnever thought it before. That is the effect of all \nwise writing, I suppose, which, like yours, lays us \nall under obligation. Why don't you oftener bring \nus reports of your interviews with Egerie } Cranch \nhad already told us of the paper with great praise \nin a letter which told me also of your birthnight \norgie with Boott and John Holmes. I have the \nphotograph of Carrie Cranch's remarkable portrait \nof you, which is a precious possession ; and, when \nI see Cranch, I hear of you, and, when I don't see \nhim, I think of you, and always with the old affec- \ntion.\" \n\nIn another letter we get a glimpse of one of \nDwight's most intimate and lifelong friends, a \nyounger brother of Dr. O. W. Holmes: \"The even- \ning before your letter came I spent in Cambridge \nwith my dear friend John Holmes, who has been \nlaid up lame, but is getting better. I must tell you \nof a little thing he related to me, as showing the \ndelicacy of his character. I chanced to say that, \ndriven to the last extremity, unable to write or read \nor think, I had taken up ' Pickwick Papers ' again. \nSaid he : ' I never met Dickens but once : that was \nat James Lowell's. Mention was made of some \nlittle known book of Walter Scott, and Dickens \nsaid to me : \" You ought to have that. When I \nget home, I will send it to you.\" ' John said, ' I \nreplied : '* Oh, no, my dear sir. I cannot allow \nthat. If you make such a promise, it will bother \nyou more than it is worth,\"' — or something Hke \nthat.\" \n\n\n288 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nIn 1883 occurred the death of Charles T. Brooks, \npreacher and poet, who was one of D wight's most \nintimate friends, and who had been associated with \nhim in at least one or two literary ventures. To the \nBoston Transcripf he sent a poem expressive of \nwhat his friend had been to him, which elicited the \nfollowing letter : — \n\nBostoji, Oct. 30, 1883. \n\nMy dear D wight, — I can hardly express to you \nhow much I was delighted by your poem on \nBrooks, published in the Transcript. Every trait \nof his charming mind, every feature of his gentle \nand beneficent face, rise before me as I read your \ntribute to his moral and intellectual worth. What \ngood that man has done, considered simply as a \ntranslator of Goethe and Richter! Yet his patriot- \nism, in making us familiar with great works of the \nGerman mind, is hardly yet appreciated — except \nby men like you. How good the man was ! No- \nbody could believe in original sin in his presence. \nHe radiated his own stainless heart and soul and \ncharacter through every company where he ap- \npeared. But, my dear Dwight, why don't you \nwrite more poems 1 It seems to me that any \njournal in the country would gladly accept such \na poem as this of yours. \n\nEver sincerely yours, \n\nE. P. Whipple. \n\nFor \" The Memorial History of Boston,\" the \nfourth volume of which was published in 1881, \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 289 \n\nDwight wrote a history of music in that city. In \nthe introduction to it he gave a rapid sketch of the \nmusical growth of the city during the seventeenth \nand eighteenth centuries, but this was not used \nbecause the article was of too great length. This \nexcised part appeared in the Atlantic Monthly \nin December, 1882, under the title of \"Our Dark \nAge in Music.\" The conclusion of the article, \nwhich was devoted to the teaching of music in the \npublic schools, was also omitted. \n\nIn 1885 Dwight was asked by the publishers of \nWebster's Dictionary to act as one of the editors \nof that work, in the preparation of a new and en- \nlarged edition. He was to revise the musical defi- \nnitions, and to add such as the advance in music had \nmade desirable. This edition appeared in 1890, as \nthe \"International.\" In 1885 came the two hun- \ndredth anniversary of the births of Handel and Bach, \nand for the A tlmitic Monthly Dwight wrote an arti- \ncle on each of these great composers. That on \nHandel appeared in April, and that on Bach in \nMay. \n\nAlthough Dwight found in the Harvard Musical \nAssociation the chief interest of his life, in the way \nof an organized effort to advance the cause of \nmusic in Boston, yet he did not confine his affec- \ntion or his labors to that institution. He was also \nwarmly interested in the Handel and Haydn So- \nciety, and welcomed all its efforts to advance the \ncause of music. When the history of that society \nby Charles C. Perkins, one of Dwight's devoted \n\n\n290 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nfriends, came to an end because of his death, \nDwight was asked by the society to take up the \nwork and continue it. He accordingly prepared \ntwo parts, of about one hundred pages each, which \nwere pubHshed in 1887. For the New England \nMagazine he prepared a sketch of the work of the \nHandel and Haydn Society, which appeared in \nDecember, 1889. This was the last of his several \narticles on the history of music in Boston, which, \ntaken together, make a continuous and admirable \nhistorical survey of the musical development of \nthat city. \n\nIn the summer of 1890 Dwight was asked to \ntake charge of the musical department of the Bos- \nton Transcript during the absence of the editor, \nMr. William F. Apthorp, in Europe. He was to \nwrite of certain concerts, and his duties were to \ncontinue for only six months. After much hesita- \ntion he undertook the task, which he carried \nthrough with entire success. To a work edited by \nProfessor John K. Paine, Theodore Thomas, and \nKarl Klauser, and called \" Famous Composers and \ntheir Works,\" which was published in 1891, \nDwight contributed a paper on Felix Mendelssohn- \nBartholdy. This was the last of his contributions \nto the criticism of that art he had loved all his \nlife, and to which his life had been so faithfully \n\ndevoted. \n\nIn 1884 Dwight made an effort to publish his \ntranslations of the poems of Goethe. He consulted \nFrancis H. Underwood as to the best way of bring- \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 291 \n\ning this about, who advised him to apply to a \nLondon publisher; but nothing came of this proj- \nect. In 1885 he wrote an essay on \"Common \nSense,\" in which he discussed philosophy, religion, \nand politics. He read it several times at the houses \nof his friends and to club gatherings. It was much \nadmired by those who heard it, and it was received \nwith enthusiasm by many. In some degree it was \nhis parting word to his friends on some of the \nthemes he had been pondering all his life. It was \na defence of the idealistic philosophy of his youth, \nand an application of its great principles to the \nchief activities of humanity. This essay was given \nto the public in the Unitarian Review for May, \n1890. \n\nIn 1886 the Harvard Musical Association moved \nto 1 1 Park Square, and here Dwight found a new \nhome. The janitor and his family lived in the \nhouse, and with them he was able to take his meals, \nif he did not wish to go out ; and more of the com- \nforts of a home came to him in this place than he \nhad enjoyed for many years. The removal was \nmade necessary by the building of the new Court \nHouse, but it was advantageous in many ways. \n\nIn November, 1892, the Association bought the \nhouse No. I West Cedar Street, and moved into \nit. To Dwight the removal looked like a terrible \ntask, especially as the janitor and his family, to \nwhom he was warmly attached, could not go with \nhim. The move was made very easy to him, how- \never ; and he found himself better situated than ever \n\n\n292 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nbefore. Nov. 21, 1892, he wrote to a young friend: \n\" For several weeks I could only say, I eat and \nbreathe dust, I think dust, I feel dust, I am dust! \nThat means I have been getting ready to move; \nand, finally, I have moved. I write you from our \nnew house, which is ours (the Harvard Musical As- \nsociation's). I moved last Friday. Thanks to the \nzealous and efficient help of my friends, the Ham- \niltons, who took such excellent and tender care \nof me in Park Square, I had everything — books, \nclothes, pictures, furniture, and rubbish — brought \nover here in one day. Hamilton put up all my \nbooks and hung all my pictures, and Mrs. H. made \nmy bed; and the dear little Arthur helped with \nmore zeal than achievement, but with a vast deal \nof sympathy. The day was very warm and sunny, \nbut after I got here came on a rain and fierce wind. \nYet I slept sweetly in the quiet, clean neighbor- \nhood; and I woke the next morning refreshed, in \nthe sunshiniest room I was ever in. And so it has \nbeen for three nights and days. The house is full \nof carpenters, painters, electric-light men, who are \nstraining every nerve to get all ready for a grand \nopening social musicale, with many guests, next Fri- \nday evening. Our committee have worked like \ndragons, getting the library over and setting it up, \nnot just in my old order ; for they sacrifice much to \ntheir acoustic hobby. But we shall have a beau- \ntiful long room, three parlors end to end, with solid \npine floor, uncarpeted ; and I think that eye and ear \nwill find it very agreeable. We shall have a very \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 293 \n\nchoice selection of music : Beethoven's great B-flat \nTrio (Lang, Kneisel and Schroder of the Sym- \nphony Orchestra) ; ' Adelaide,' sung by W. J. \nWinch ; and a Bach bass aria, sung by Lamson. I \ncould not have chosen better myself. \n\n\" The saddest thing about moving was leaving \nour good Hamiltons behind ; but I find a good \nScotch couple in charge of the house, and she fur- \nnishes me breakfast, and makes (what is a great \nmatter with me) excellent coffee, and also toasts \nmuffins well. Chater's headquarters for muffins is \nright round the corner. The Symphony concerts \nare getting on apace. Orchestra admirable, pro- \ngrammes might be better. But we had a good one, \nwith Beethoven's Second Symphony (the slow move- \nment was played at my wedding, in 1851, on the \npiano by a friend).\" \n\n\" Your beautiful note, with its most cheering \ncontents, came at the right time, when I was sick \nand much depressed by loss of working days,\" he \nwrote Jan. 18, 1892, to Mrs. Otto Dresel. \" I have \nbeen for a week, and I am still, confined to the \nhouse by a cough, with all manner of painful ac- \ncompaniments,— even the old enemy, gout, has \nseized the opportunity to come back on me when I \nam helpless ! — else I should have made grateful \nacknowledgment before now of the most friendly \nfavor. All day yesterday I had proof to correct, — a \nlong article on Mendelssohn, which, I flatter myself, \ndear Otto would have approved. How thoughtful \nand how kind you are ! And how such sweet sur- \n\n\n^94 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nprises quicken one's feeling that an unfailing friend- \nship is very nearly the best thing in life ! \" \n\nOn the occasion of Dwight's eightieth birthday, \nMay 13, 1893, the Harvard Musical Association \ngave him a birthday party, and his friends gathered \nin large numbers. This was a red-letter day in \nDwight's life, and he enjoyed the occasion greatly. \nAll through the morning came to him congratula- \ntory letters and telegrams from friends who could \nnot be present, and many gifts. He took the \ndeepest pleasure in the flowers that showered in \nupon him throughout the day, and often afterward \nhe referred to them as the most beautiful he ever \nsaw. Though the afternoon was very rainy, a host \nof friends gathered to do him honor, among others \nfive who were over eighty years of age ; and Dwight \nwas fond of alluding to the six old gentlemen, \nwhose ages rose in uninterrupted succession from \neighty to eighty-five. These were John S. Dwight, \n80; John Holmes, 81; Henry W. Pickering, 82; \nOliver Wendell Holmes, 83; Robert C. Winthrop, \n84; Epes Dixwell, 85. The party was entirely \nsocial, with just enough music, chiefly furnished by \nMr. Arthur W. Foote and Mr. Wulf Fries, to make \nit a most fitting occasion. Four of Dwight's favor- \nite young lady friends poured the tea. The whole \nafforded a happy expression of the esteem in which \nDwight was held by his many friends and admirers. \nAmong the messages of friendship and congratula- \ntion was this from Mrs. Ednah D. Cheney, who \nthus recalled the many years of her acquaintance \nwith Dwight : — \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 295 \n\n1853. \n\nForty years since : the way has been long, but not dreary : \nThe limbs may grow feeble and faint, but the heart is not \n\nweary ; \nAnd the music has now the self-same melodious ringing, \nAnd high thoughts as then on their own lofty pinions are wing- \ning, \nAs when we were young, and I listened, and found with de- \nlight \nThat music itself sounded fuller and clearer through Dwight. \n\n1893. \n\nEarly in August a very sudden, acute illness \nprostrated him, from which he only partially rallied. \nAlthough suffering much, he always wore a peace- \nful face, and was made very happy and grateful by \nthe tireless devotion of his friends, who kept him \nwell supplied with flowers, fruit, etc. They called \nupon him frequently, and his days of suffering were \nbrightened so much by their presence that it was \nalmost impossible to realize that he was dan- \ngerously ill. He had the constant and tender care \nof relatives, and his brother Frank was with him in \nthe last hours. During the last days, friendly mes- \nsages came to him from all directions. He died on \nSept. 5, 1893. \n\nThe library of the Harvard Musical Association \non September 8 was for a second time a gathering \nplace of his friends, — this time for the service \nwhich, some one beautifully said, was less \"like a \nfuneral than a meeting of friends to bid him God- \nspeed.\" Dr. O. W. Holmes said to Mrs. Julia Ward \n\n\n296 JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT \n\nHowe, as they sat by each other on this occasion, \n\" Mrs. Howe, if we could see everything that is, \ndon't you think we would See about that casket a \no-roup of angels very much like those who sang a \ncertain morning in Judea? \" \" Doctor, why do you \nnot put that into a poem ? \" was the reply. The \nusual religious service was held; and the music, \nunder the direction of Mr. B. J. Lang, was touching \nand beautiful. The King's Chapel Quartet sang \nBach's chorale, \" Ein' feste Burg\"; and the con- \ntralto song, \" Oh rest in the Lord,\" was most feel- \ningly sung by Miss Lena Little. Mrs. Howe read \nthe following poem as a tribute to her friend of \nmany years : — \n\nTO JOHN S. DWIGHT. \n\nO Presence reverend and rare, \nArt thou from earth withdrawn ? \n\nThou passest as the sunshine flits \nTo light another dawn. \n\nSurely, among the symphonies \n\nThat praise the ever-blest, \nSome strophe of surpassing peace \n\nInviteth thee to rest. \n\nThine was the treasure of a life \n\nHeart-ripened from within. \nWhose many lustres perfected \n\nWhat youth did well begin. \n\nThe noble champions of thy day \n\nWere thy companions meet, \nIn the great harvest of our race, \n\nBound with its priceless wheat. \n\n\nTHE CLOSING YEARS 297 \n\nThy voice its silver cadence leaves \n\nIn Truth's resistless court, \nWhere of thy faithful services \n\nHer heralds make report. \n\nHere thou, a watchful sentinel, \n\nDidst guard the gates of Song, \nThat no unworthy note should pass \n\nTo do her temple wrong. \n\nDear are the traces of thy days \n\nMixed in these walks of ours : \nThy footsteps in our household ways \n\nAre garlanded with flowers. \n\nIf we surrender earth to earth, \n\nThe frame that's born to die, \nSpirit with spirit doth ascend \n\nTo live immortally. \n\n\n'.•V .'•'<* ■ •. \n\n\n% \n\n\n01 \n\n\n■y'-:.'*. \n\n\nnsi32 \n\n\nCooke, GlrTmi?s''^'^^^'' ^ \nJohn Sullivan Dwight, Br \n\n\nook- far \n\n\n1898. \n\n\nm \n\n\n","title":"John Sullivan Dwight, Brook-farmer, editor, and critic of music : a biography","updated_at":"2026-09-05T09:57:32.102117Z","urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:john-sullivan-dwight-brook-farmer-editor-and-critic-of-music-a-biography","version":1,"withdrawn_reason":null},"urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:john-sullivan-dwight-brook-farmer-editor-and-critic-of-music-a-biography","version_history":[{"change_note":"accessioned from the Internet Archive, item johnsullivandwig00cook","changed_by":"archive-ingest 0.1.0","recorded_at":"2026-09-05T09:57:32.400258Z","version":1}]}