She was the special correspondent from Washington of the New York Tribune, and later of the Times. Her letters were racy, full of wit, sentiment, and discriminating criticism, plenty of fun and a little sarcasm, but not so audaciously personal and aggressive as some letter-writers from the capital. They attracted attention and were widely copied, large extracts being made for the London Times.
She lectured continually to large audiences during the Civil War on war themes, and subjects in a lighter strain; was the first woman widely received as a lecturer by the colleges and lyceums. With a commanding presence, handsome face, an agreeable, permeating voice, a natural offhand manner, and something to say, she was at once a decided favourite, and travelled great distances to meet her engagements. She often quoted that ungallant speech from the Duke of Argyle: "Woman has no right on a platform—except to be hung; then it's unavoidable"; and by her eloquence and wit proved its falsity and narrowness. Without the least imitation of masculine oratory, her best remembered lectures are, "The Heroic in Common Life," and "Characteristics of Yankee Humour." She always had the rare gift of telling a story capitally, with ease, brevity, and dramatic effect, certain of the point or climax. I cannot think of any other woman of this country who has caused so much hearty laughter by this enviable gift. She can compress a word-picture or character-sketch into a few lines, as when she said of the early Yankee: "No matter how large a man he was, he had a look of shrinking and collapse about him. It looked as if the Lord had made him and then pinched him." And a woman who has done such good work in poetry, juvenile literature, journalism, on the platform, and in books of travel and biography, will not soon be forgotten. There is a list of eighteen volumes from her pen.
She never established a salon, but the widespread, influential daily paper and the lecture hall are the movable salon to the women of genius in this Republic.
This is just a memory. After all, we are but "Movie Pictures," seen for a moment, and others take our place.
CHAPTER VI
In and Near Boston—Edward Everett Hale—Thomas Wentworth Higginson—Julia Ward Howe—Mary A. Livermore—A Day at the Concord School—Harriet G. Hosmer—"Dora D'Istria," our Illustrious Visitor.
Edward Everett Hale was kind to me, as he was to all who came within his radius. He once called to warn me to avoid, like poison, a rascally imposter who was calling on many of the authors in and near Boston to get one thousand dollars from each to create a publishing company, so that authors could have their books published at a much cheaper rate than in the regular way. This person never called on me, as I then had no bank account. He did utterly impoverish many other credulous persons, both writers, and in private families. All was grist that came to his mill, and he ground them "exceeding small."
I met Mr. Hale one early spring at Pinehurst, North Carolina, with his wife and daughter. He always had a sad face, as one who knew and grieved over the faults and frailties of humanity, but at this time he was recovering from a severe fall, and walked with a slow and feeble step. When he noticed me sitting on the broad piazza, he came, and taking a chair beside me, began to joke in his old way, telling comical happenings, and inquired if I knew where Noah kept his bees. His answer: "In the Ark-hives, of course." Once when I asked his opinion of a pompous, loud-voiced minister, he only said, "Self, self, self!"
I wonder how many in his audiences or his congregation could understand more than half of what he was saying. I once went to an Authors' Reading in Boston where he recited a poem, doubtless very impressive, but although in a box just over the stage, I could not get one word. He placed his voice at the roof of his mouth, a fine sounding board, but the words went no farther than the inside of his lips. I believe his grand books influence more persons for better lives than even his personal presence and Christ-like magnetism.