A Visit from the Wileys
Many years ago, shortly after I began teaching at Lafayette College, I determined to join The American Association for the Advancement of Science. This long-winded name was given by themselves to a collection of bookworms who every year assembled in some good-sized city, after having collected some thousands of dollars for expenses of the local merchants, and held as many as a dozen pow wows in as many different rooms. In one of these rooms a learned discussion on one or more mathematical questions was kept up during most of the hours of daylight; in a second, subjects in physics were undergoing examination; a third room was occupied by the chemists, a fourth by the biologists; everywhere there was a sprinkling of “nuts” who were in danger of breaking out and must be sat upon in order not to discredit the serious minded.
The discussions sometimes dropped into a burst of self-admiration by some savant devoted to the holy cause of science who was keeping the lamp of knowledge burning in poverty and distress. These wails were occasionally broken in upon by another wholesome-minded soul, like the great Cope, who boldly declared that he was not suffering but having a good time and could be happy in no other way.
In the evenings some of us put on our best clothes and attended a garden party given by a local magnate where we met the money bags of the neighborhood and for an hour breathed the unaccustomed air of luxury; or we attended an evening lecture given by some member of the attending band of scientists in compliment to the hosts; a chosen few assembled at a room where good beer was to be had, in ordinary dress, drank a little beer and listened to stories and discussions straight from the shoulder and worth while.
It was in these evening discussions and in daylight visits to points of geological or other interest that we became acquainted and learned to enjoy the great week of the year. It was here that I first met Le Conte, Cope, Major Powell, the one-armed explorer of the Colorado canyon, Brashear, who made his first lenses from tumbler bottoms and Wiley, the jolly farmer giant, facile princeps among men.
I believe I first met Wiley at Buffalo in August, 1886. We visited Niagara together as part of a jolly crowd and had a happy day. Nearly every year for many years after I met Wiley at these meetings. I also met him elsewhere. He came to Easton nearly every year for awhile to lecture to my students. The lecture room was large enough to hold the audience at first, but as he became better known we moved over to Pardee Hall into a room large enough to hold the crowd that came to enjoy the treat. Presently the “old man,” as we called him, was asked to go to Lehigh whenever he came to Lafayette. I always went up with him and listened again. His lectures were always new, never twice the same.
On one occasion he wrote me asking whether he might spend an extra day with me and I gladly acceded. We rode all day through the hills and woods over Scott’s Mountain and had a jolly day. When the attempt to pass pure food legislation became strenuous Frear and I conspired in its behalf and carried our point. When he became President of the American Chemical Society he chose me as editor and we toiled together at the heavy task. Afterwards I printed and published his great work on Agricultural Chemical Analysis. In all this work and play he was the kind, indulgent older brother.
For many years he led the lonely imperfect life of a bachelor until he had reached the ripe age of 62 when his love of many years yielded to his wishes and they were married. I shall never forget the glad smile on his face as my wife and I came up to congratulate them and he realized that we had traveled all the way from Easton to wish him joy.
Upon a later occasion we visited Washington with a large party of chemists and, with many others were the guests of Dr. and Mrs. Wiley at a dinner at the Raleigh. But we had the advantage of most of the other guests, for we were admitted behind the scenes before the dinner came off. Mrs. Wiley and Nan Pierce, Dr. Wiley’s Secretary, told us about some of the funny things that had occurred. Dr. Wiley was away from home and they were forced to make all the arrangements. They knew only a few of his friends and succeeded in inviting several dead people to the feast.
Upon another occasion we were in Washington with a party of Rotarians and the Wileys invited us to dinner at their home in Ashmead Place. Here we met the Wiley boys, Harvey Jr. and John, for the first time, while my wife told us, to our great joy, how, by a series of amusing misunderstandings, she had narrowly escaped being a guest at one of Mrs. Harding’s private parties. In the evening we attended a literary soiree with Dr. and Mrs. Wiley and greatly enjoyed the papers read and the chaff that formed a part. It was a real literary treat.
Then we learned that his eyesight was failing and that he was soon to be operated upon for cataract. The day of the operation passed and we had no news. We dare not telegraph for fear the operation had not succeeded. Thus a week passed. At last we learned that he saw once more though not so well as of old.
We saw Dr. Wiley again at the Golden Wedding of Dr. and Mrs. W. H. Nichols at Sherry’s last winter. Dr. Wiley seemed well and in good spirits. We saw comparatively little of him here because so many of his friends were present and each claimed a share of his time.
Several months later a letter arrived telling us that the family expected to start for Cambridge, Mass., shortly, where Wiley was to attend the fiftieth reunion of his class at Harvard. They would arrive in Easton in the evening by auto and would spend the night with us. I immediately replied that the road up College Hill was closed for repairs and that they must telephone me on arrival and allow me to join and pilot them.
Accordingly, at 8 P. M. the telephone rang and Mrs. Wiley’s voice announced their arrival. They were dusty and tired and soon after dinner retired to rest.
We have quite a good-sized house but the family is large and only two extra rooms were available. One of these contained a large wooden bedstead heavy and strong enough to support a hippopotamus; this was dedicated to Dr. and Mrs. Wiley. The other room had a large brass bedstead which had been used for many years. Originally it had been well and strong; but long continued use by our four stocky boys as a spring-board and general exercise ground had weakened our confidence in its ability to sustain heavy weights. We thought, however, it would surely sustain the two boys. After they had all retired and it was too late to interfere, from sundry movements and murmurings overhead, it became evident that a readjustment had taken place and that Dr. Wiley and his huskiest son were in the weak bed while Nan and the younger boy occupied the bed for elephants. We listened in dreadful suspense for a breakdown. Fortunately none came and the extra weight was safely carried.
For ten days we heard nothing of the Wileys and then they drove up on their way home. They had had a wonderful time at Harvard and on the way home. On the way they stopped at a country hotel and John had climbed up to the peak of the roof and was unable to get down. Then he called to his father for help and that hard-hearted parent refused to assist him for some time but finally relented.
Mrs. Hart had no help in the kitchen and the Doctor thought they had better not stop but I persuaded him otherwise. I said: “We want you to stay. We will let you help us and will dispense with all frills. I have so arranged that Mrs. Hart shall not be overworked and shall be able to enjoy your visit.” On that understanding they consented to stay. The next day was Thursday, the meeting day of our Rotary Club, and the Doctor, the Wiley boys and my own four boys were my guests at the Rotary lunch. They made quite an array, and there was much quiet amusement as they filed in and sat down. After the lunch Dr. Wiley was called upon to speak and made us a short address—such a happy talk as only Wiley can make.
In the meantime Mrs. Wiley and Dr. Kate De Witt Miesse, our family physician and a friend of Mrs. Wiley, and my wife, were dining at the Pomfret Club, guests of my wife. Behind the curtains that night I heard the story from my wife of how her two guests discoursed on woman’s rights while she sat and listened and enjoyed the fun.
That night at dinner we had ice cream and cake for dessert, and the boys brought in the towering piece of cream fresh from the can. It towered above my wife as she sliced off the portions and finally toppled over on the platter. Mrs. Wiley had been watching it in nervous terror, and as it went over she screamed and shouted: “My soul and body!” much to our amusement. The Doctor informed us that for a moderate surprise she called: “My soul!” but great occasions called for: “My soul and body!”
The next day was raining and we were not able to visit the farm as we had planned but spent the day at home resting. The following day was beautiful and we had an early breakfast that they might be soon on the road. The topic somehow shifted to the question of woman’s rights and the Doctor proceeded to tell us how, in pursuit of these rights, his wife had become a criminal and been hustled to the gaol while her devoted family were scouring the country to find her.
They had been persecuting Mr. Wilson, he said, and merited their sad fate but he thought she had no business to leave three hopeless orphans stranded as she had. We all laughed and almost screamed with delight as the story proceeded.
After breakfast the Doctor begged us to go part way with them. They expected to stop at Valley Forge and they wanted us to go too. We finally agreed to go. At Doylestown my auto shed a tire and we sent for the garage man while we lunched in the shade of the trees. It was determined to leave my machine while I was to ride with my wife or with the Wileys. Then Mrs. Wiley cornered me and said I must not strike or push a lady while the Doctor paid the garage man.
When I tried to get in my wife’s car I found all the boys there; of course they wanted to be together, so I got in with the Wileys. We drove around Valley Forge Park and enjoyed the beauty of the spot and reminded ourselves of the poor soldiers, freezing and starving the winter away, and proceeded to climb the tower. John went ahead and reached the very top before his mother spied him and then she once more screamed: “My soul and body!”
My boys were very fond of Mrs. Wiley. So was I until I became aware of the disaffection she had stirred up. Previous to this visit my wife had been obedient, as all wives should be, but now she began to speak up. She told us Mrs. Wiley said that every wife who took care of her man and his children was self supporting and had a right to share his wealth if he had any. This is dreadful doctrine as all but the depraved must agree. I am wondering whether we had better have Mrs. Wiley again?