Memories grave and gay

by Florence Howe Hall

It was a part of my father’s power to draw to his aid people of worth and ability. His chivalrous spirit thrilled through his assistants. They saw him devoting his life to the care of the maimed lambs of the human fold—they, too, would and did help in the good work. Working with the “Doctor” was no light service, yet all knew that he himself labored harder than any one else. Of necessity there was much steady, practical work, yet, as in all pioneer labor, there was the romance of hewing out new paths. To enlist under the “Doctor’s” banner was in itself an adventure. Mary Paddock did so enlist, becoming a teacher at the Institution for the Blind in her young womanhood. Her devotion to my father ended only with his life. She was with us often at “Lawton’s Valley” and “Green Peace” as faithful friend and helper. During the last years of my father’s life, when his health was failing badly, she was his amanuensis and nurse. For her memory we all feel deep affection and gratitude.

The blind children were often my playmates. We were so accustomed to seeing and being with them that we thought little about their privation of sight. My father’s aim was to make them as much like seeing people as possible. Thus they were taught to go about the house and grounds very freely, running down-stairs as rapidly as seeing boys and girls. Some of them walked in the streets and even traveled in the cars alone. Usually, however, a leader was required. Occasionally I went with them, as guide, to opera or concert. Many tickets were generously sent to them, especially for the less popular performances.

In the summer of 1867 sister Maud was in her thirteenth year—a handsome child of generous and noble impulses, but of an impetuous disposition that made her at times difficult to deal with. “Old Splendid” was the name given her by a dressmaker to whom we were all attached. “The Stormy Petrel” was another nickname.

Her lack of respect for the gods of the school-room filled my more conventional soul with horror. To call the excellent Mr. Greenleaf, the author of our arithmetic, a fool seemed to me eminently unreasonable. When, in a fit of exasperation over her studies, the ink-bottle was flung across the room, spattering the wall with its contents, I stood aghast. I did the best I could for my young charge while the family were in Europe and was rewarded a hundredfold by her affection and gratitude.

My mother and sisters assisted in the work of distributing to the Cretan refugees the ten thousand garments sent out from America. Sister Laura has described “the stately, dark-eyed Cretan women, majestic even in their rags and misery; the slender girls; the lovely, dirty children.” She has told us of many romantic incidents which found no place in my father’s reports.[^[10]] He always suppressed his own part in any undertaking, writing down only what was necessary to secure the interest of the reader.

A price was set upon his head by the Turkish authorities of Crete. Nevertheless, he visited the island and the small rocky fortress where he had been besieged in the old days of the Greek Revolution.

[10]. Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe. Dana Estes & Co.

The Howe sisters made a trip on a small steamer where there was a grim passenger—the head of a famous brigand who had just been captured and killed. They would have liked to see this horrible trophy, but my father would not permit it.

On their return to America, my father and mother began to make preparations for a fair in behalf of the Cretans. My share was to revive the sewing-circle of the previous year. Instead of working on “pajamas” and “togas,” we now had the more interesting occupation of sewing on pretty things. White coats with colored silk trimmings were then in fashion. I conceived the brilliant idea of making them at our sewing-circle, and so reaping a handsome profit. The girls groaned at undertaking anything so serious as outside garments, but I persuaded them that they could—and ought. These sold for a high price—between thirty and forty dollars apiece!

The fair was a great success, more than thirty thousand dollars being raised. The work for the Cretans involved many meetings. Money was raised by lectures and in other ways. A poster in one of the theaters announcing a performance for their benefit drew this comment from a passer-by: