“For her large charity, wide information, quick memory, and unfailing tact made her the warm friend of all who met her. The position in which her life placed her was one which made great demands, and she met them all. As the centre of a large family circle, involving wide and important interests, and also as the intimate friend of men and women of leading position, she never failed to manifest the ready wisdom and large sympathy for which each occasion called. She was calm under all trouble, reasonable in all perplexity, and thankful in all happiness.
“Mrs. Field’s earnest and deep religious spirit was recognized by her intimate friends as the foundation of those graces which were evident to all. Her Christian faith was eminently strong and simple. It grew as the emergencies of life called for its exercise, and her intelligence and information were in the closest relation with her faith at all times. Her love for nature and her knowledge of trees and flowers were remarkable, and, to those who did not know her deep and large nature, surprising in one whose life in the city was so engrossing. Her interest in missionary undertakings was equally marked; it laid hold of her large experiences as a traveller in all parts of the world, and made them helpful to a large understanding of all movements in foreign lands.
“One recalls with constant pleasure all the circumstances of so large, devoted, and refined a life, which, wherever it moved, brought new brightness and larger confidence and deeper faith. Her passage from this world to the larger realm of the life which is unseen is but the farther expansion under perfect conditions of the character which, while it was amongst us, was ever going from strength to strength.”
It was at this time that disasters in business and calamities that were calculated to affect him far more keenly fell upon him, and what remained of his life was full of great anguish, both mental and physical. On his seventy-second birthday, November 30th, he found that of the fortunes that he had invested in the Atlantic cables, the elevated roads, and the Washington Building, but one thousand pounds of Anglo-American cable stock remained, and had it not been for the kindness of his friend Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, he could not in May, 1892, have gone to his country home. It was Mr. Morgan also who advanced the necessary money to keep in force the premium on Mr. Field’s life-insurance policies. That in the New York Mutual Insurance Company had been taken out in 1843, and was number 421. It was thought that the change to the country would benefit him, but in fact it only increased his distress and his weakness. Early on the morning of July 12th his family were called, and watched by his side from half-past four until ten minutes before ten, when the rest he so longed for was given. It was with a prayer of thanksgiving that they laid his tired head back on his pillow. During those long hours he had spoken but once, and that was to ask for air, but his loving eyes followed them almost to the end.
From the New York Tribune of July 15th these sentences are copied:
“As simple and as unostentatious as he would have wished was the funeral of Cyrus W. Field, which was held yesterday. There was no eulogy, and there were few floral tributes. The simple Protestant Episcopal service was read.”
He was buried in Stockbridge.
Some mention of his personal traits may not be unwelcome here.
His disposition was sunny and genial, and he thoroughly enjoyed his home. All his life he was subject to periods of depression, but they were quickly over, and, in connection with the trials that come to all, he would say that this or that had been for the best, and that it had brought with it good results. When asked how he was his answer invariably was, “Jolly,” and his telegrams ended with the words “All well,” or, “In good health and spirits.”
His love for children was great. No matter how forlorn or poor the child was, he would stop and speak to it, and offer to buy the little one, and assure it that it was “an angel baby.” And he delighted to gather his family and friends around him. Both summer and winter he was up by six o’clock, and by seven was in his library. It was there that he planned his work for the day. Each morning a list was made of those he wished to see and the order in which he desired to meet each one, and this list was placed in his hat on his way to breakfast. That meal was served at the instant; and once when reproached for not having waited until all were at the table, he answered that he could not afford to lose ten minutes in the morning, for that meant seventy in a week, or rather sixty hours, two and a half full days, in the year. Telegrams or letters received late in the evening were placed on his desk unopened. He would say, “If they bring me bad news I shall not sleep if I read them, and if the news is good it will keep until morning.”