I should like to introduce you to her home as it was—the hall, with its interesting pictures and fragrant with fresh flowers; the dining-room, the drawing-rooms, with their magnetized atmosphere of the past (you can almost feel the presence of those who have loved to linger there); her own sanctum, where a chosen few were admitted; but the limits of space forbid. The queens of Parisian salons have been praised and idealized till we are led to believe them unapproachable in their social altitude. But I am not afraid to place beside them an American woman, uncrowned by extravagant adulation, but fully their equal—the artist, poet, conversationist, Anne C. L. Botta.
She was absolutely free from egotism or conceit, always avoiding allusion to what she had accomplished, or her unfulfilled longings. But she once told me:
Sandy (short for old, red sand stone), I would rather have had a child than to have made the most perfect statue or the finest painting ever produced. [She also said]: If I could only stop longing and aspiring for that which is not in my power to attain, but is only just near enough to keep me always running after it, like the donkey that followed an ear of corn which was tied fast to a stick.
Mrs. Botta came of a Celtic father, gay, humorous, full of impulsive chivalry and intense Irish patriotism, and of a practical New England mother, herself of Revolutionary stock, clear of judgment, careful of the household economy, upright, exemplary, and "facultied." In the daughter these inherited qualities blended in a most harmonious whole. Grant Allen, the scientific writer, novelist, and student of spiritualistic phenomena, thinks that racial differences often combine to produce a genius.
I often think of that rarely endowed friend in full faith that she now has the joys denied her here, and that her many-sided nature is allowed progress, full and free and far, in many directions. I am also sure that Heaven could not be Heaven to Mrs. Botta if she were not able to take soul flights and use wireless telegraphy to still help those she left behind, and hope that she can return to greet and guide us as we reach the unknown land.
Through the kind suggestions of Mrs. Botta, I was asked to give talks on literary matters at the house of one of New York's most influential citizens. This I enjoyed immensely. Soon the large drawing-rooms were too small for the numbers who came. Next we went to the Young Women's Christian Association, to the library there, and later I decided to engage the church parlours in Doctor Howard Crosby's Church, Fourth Avenue and Twenty-second Street, New York. When I realized my audacious venture, I was frightened. Ten lectures had been advertised and some not written!
On the day for my first lecture the rain poured down, and I felt sure of a failure. My sister went with me to the church. As we drew near I noticed a string of carriages up and down the avenue. "There must be a wedding or a funeral," I whispered, feeling more in the mood of the latter, but never dreaming how much those carriages meant to me. As I went timidly into the room I found nearly every seat full, and was greeted with cordial applause. My sister took a seat beside me. My subject was "Spinster Authors of England." My hands trembled so visibly that I laid my manuscript on the table, but after getting in magnetic touch with those before me, I did not mind.
The reading occupied only one hour, and afterwards I was surrounded by New Hampshire women and New Yorkers who congratulated me warmly. There were reporters sent from seven of the best daily papers, whom I found sharpening their pencils expectantly. They gave correct and complimentary notices, and my success was now assured.
Mr. James T. Fields not only advised his New York friends to hear me, but came himself, bringing my father who was deeply gratified. Mr. Fields told father that I had a remarkably choice audience, among the best in the city. My father had felt very deeply, even to tears, the sharp, narrow and adverse criticism of one of his associates who considered that I unsexed myself by daring to speak in public, and who advised strongly against encouraging me in such unwomanly behaviour.