i 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 1835-1900 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM 
 HIS LETTERS AND DIARIES 
 
 MADE AND EDITED BY 
 
 JESSICA TYLER AUSTEN 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 Garden City New York 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 MCMXI 
 
r 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION 
 INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 
 
 *CI.A3()(.351 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The following material, which might in a very broad sense be 
 called an autobiography, is made up, as is indicated on the title 
 page, of selections from the letters and diaries of Moses Coit Tyler. 
 When they were written, there was doubtless no thought of pub- 
 lication. There are long silences in the diaries and no attempt has 
 been made to fill these. The only desire has been to let my father 
 tell in his own language as continuous a story of his life as possible. 
 The words in brackets are the editor's, all the rest are my father's. 
 I wish to thank, in addition to the members of my own family for 
 help and advice, Miss Lihan Whiting. 
 
 Ithaca, N. Y. J. T. A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPIXK 
 
 I. Parentage, Birth, and Early Life, 1 794-1854 
 
 II. 1854-1863 
 
 m. 1863-1866 
 
 IV. 1867-1869 
 
 V. 1870-1871 
 
 VI. 1871-1872 
 
 VII. 1873-1875 
 
 VIII. 1876-1879 
 
 IX. 1880-1881 
 
 X. 1882 
 
 XI. 1883 
 
 XII. 1884 
 
 XIII. 1885-1886 
 
 XIV. 1886-1887 
 
 XV. 1888 
 
 XVI. 1889 • 
 
 XVII. 1890 
 
 XVIII. 1891-1894 
 
 XIX. 1895-1897 
 
 XX. 1898 
 
 XXI. 1899-1900 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler 
 
 3 
 7 
 
 23 
 34 
 46 
 64 
 77 
 97 
 107 
 
 125 
 177 
 188 
 198 
 204 
 211 
 
 234 
 252 
 266 
 280 
 302 
 31S 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler Frontispiece "^ 
 
 7ACIN0 PAOX 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler at the age of eight 4 ^^ 
 
 Elisha and Mary Tyler 224 »^ 
 
 Miss Jeannette H. Gilbert 282 »^ 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 

Moses Coit Tyler 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PARENTAGE, BIRTH, AND EARLY LITE 
 
 1794 — 1854 
 
 MOSES COIT TYLER was born August 2, 1835, at Griswold, 
 Conn., and died December 28, 1900, at Ithaca, N. Y. His 
 father, Elisha Tyler, captain in the War of 181 2, was bom at 
 Griswold, Conn., November 2, 1794, and died at Detroit, Mich., 
 February 5, 1857. His mother, Mary Greene, of Quaker stock, 
 was born August 18, 1807, at Scituate, R. I., and died 
 February 2, 1894. Elisha and Mary were married March 9, 
 1830, and had nine children, Moses being the fourth 
 child. 
 
 "It is the voice of tradition," according to a statement of 
 EUsha Tyler's, "that during the early settlement of New Eng- 
 land three brothers, named Nathaniel, Abraham, and Job, coming 
 from England, landed at Plymouth, and after a little delay 
 seated themselves on a log, partook of their refreshments, arose, 
 embraced and kissed each other; then each went his way, and 
 it saith not that they ever again met." 
 
 This was about 1653. One settled in Virginia, to which stock 
 John Tyler, President of the United States, is said to have 
 belonged; one in the New Haven Colony, and one in Andover. 
 From the latter stock was born James, son of Job and Hope- 
 still, who afterward removed to and settled at Preston, near 
 
4 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Griswold. Moses Coit Tyler belonged to this latter branch, 
 and was the eighth generation from Job. 
 
 Elisha Tyler was an only son with five younger sisters. 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler writes, upon reading some of his father's 
 letters, that "they give an impression exceeding what I ever be- 
 fore had of the intellectual grasp and the literaTy ability of 
 my father. It is tragic to think that in his early life he longed 
 to go to college, to take a profession, and that his father and 
 mother refused, apparently, on the ground that he was the only 
 son and must stand by them on the farm. He would have 
 made a name in the world and would have been a power for 
 good. He was a high-minded man always." 
 
 It was not until after the death of his father that EUsha was 
 able to extricate himself from home ties; and it was not until 
 his thirty-sixth year that he married and migrated to the West. 
 In a letter to his son Moses, he said: "I proposed this to my 
 father. He said he was too old to remove; that I was the only 
 son; that duty required me to remain during his life; that when 
 he died I might go if I chose. I accordingly remained on the 
 old homestead, always wishing to go to a more fertile region, but 
 saw no way to do it and keep peace in the family and discharge 
 what I beheved to be duty." 
 
 Late in life he writes pathetically of his failures: "In all my 
 pecuniary transactions I have used my better judgments to 
 secure a fortune, but now have to lament that at the age of 
 sixty-two I find myself and family poor, and nothing very pros- 
 perous at hand for the future of any of us. From my present 
 standpoint I can look back and see how some of my mistakes 
 occurred which have proved so disastrous, and can as easily 
 see how a different course would have given me possession of 
 miUions. You will probably ask why I should thus mistake. 
 I say I did as well as I knew how." 
 
 In 1837 the removal of the family to the West began. The 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 EIGHT YEARS OLD 
 
 PAID FOR WITH THE FIRST MONEY HE 
 
 EARNED DRIVING THE COWS TO PASTURE 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 5 
 
 long journey was undertaken by easy stages and long halts, as 
 it was a time of no railroads and the easiest mode of conveyance 
 was by the Erie canal. They first went to Constantia, N. Y., 
 which was reached after a journey, mostly by water, of two days. 
 
 Constantia is situated on the west shore of Oneida lake. 
 Elisha Tyler's interest in that place was in a furnace company 
 of which he became a member. They remained there only a 
 short time, when he made known his intention of going still 
 farther west, and of visiting Marshall, Mich. There was quite 
 an opening at this time in Marshall and its vicinity for the 
 erection and use of flour mills. 
 
 The prospect of having some interest in one of these mills or 
 of owning one was his chief inducement for taking this long and 
 tedious journey. But he felt that his faithful Pompey, brought 
 all the way from Connecticut, was equal to the occasion, and 
 accordingly he performed this journey in his own conveyance. 
 They lived consecutively in Burlington, Union City, and Detroit. 
 To this latter place, which was the last move ever made by Elisha 
 Tyler, in mid-winter of the year 1843 he drove in a sleigh, 
 "taking with him all his family, excepting Charles, who went 
 afoot to drive the cow, a distance of about one hundred and 
 twenty-five miles. In that sleigh were placed very snugly the 
 mother with her youngest child, John; then Edward and Olive 
 and Moses and Susannah and Rowland. They had excellent 
 sleighing the whole way, and were drawn by a single horse, the 
 incomparable Pompey, who was lost and found not long after 
 their arrival in what seemed to them the great and mighty 
 city." 
 
 When Moses was fourteen years old his father wrote him: 
 "You are aware that we can do but little, and that you will 
 be imder the necessity to rely principally on your own efforts; 
 therefore you will understand that indolence you cannot afford 
 to tolerate in any degree; that digy digy dig is the order of 
 
6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 the day for you. I should not urge you so if I did not love you 
 and feel such a desire for your prosperity." 
 
 With this paternal injunction ringing in his ears, Moses Tyler 
 set forth in 1849, ^ mere child, to make his way in the world. 
 A cousin at this time wrote of him: "I think Moses has the most 
 intellectual face in the family. He is determined to be a scholar 
 at all events. We shall hear from him some time." 
 
 His struggles continued until his seventeenth year, when he 
 was able to go to college. He went first to Michigan university, 
 but remained there one year, going in the following year to Yale. 
 His first letter, written a few days after his matriculation at the 
 latter place, relates his experiences. 
 
 li 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 1854 — 1863 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MRS. DORCAS GREENE 
 
 New Haven, Sept. 12, 1854 
 My DEAR Aunt: 
 
 I can hardly explain what twist or turn of the wheel of 
 chance it was that the time I spent in Rhode Island passed away 
 without my seeing you again after that flying call I made. I 
 no more supposed that that should be my only visit with you than 
 that I should fly from Cranston to New Haven in mid-air. But 
 it did go by, and I left Rhode Island without taking a good look 
 at you, for the little occasional squint I got of you that day was 
 an aggravation rather than otherwise. 
 
 I have been here several days. Our term begins to-morrow 
 and the students are pouring in at a numerous rate. It is proba- 
 ble that the coming class will be a very large one, and it is 
 a singular fact that at no time since the foundation of old Yale 
 itself have there been so many Southern students presented 
 for admission. This is all the more remarkable in view of the 
 fact that during the past few months many of the more influential 
 journals of the South have denounced the college in the most 
 unmeasured terms in consequence of the bold stand which was 
 taken by the faculty in the Nebraska question. But the result 
 of the outcry against the coUege seems not to correspond with the 
 design. So it is that nothing is ever lost by taking a firm stand on 
 all moral questions and by displaying moral courage and inde- 
 pendence of character. . . . Your friend Thomas K. Beecher 
 was in the city last Sabbath but did not preach. I saw him at a 
 distance wallang rapidly across the Green, with that long dark 
 shawl of his (which belonged to Mrs. B.) trailing behind him in 
 the wind. I sincerely regret having never made his acquaintance. 
 
 Affectionately, Moses. 
 7 
 
8 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 [During the first campaign of the Republican party in 
 the summer of 1856, upon a visit home, Moses Tyler 
 stumped the state, making political speeches for Fremont. 
 These long journeys from New Haven to Michigan were 
 not numerous, and the last one, made under painful circum- 
 stances in the winter of 1857, occurred during his 
 senior year, after receiving a letter from his father which filled 
 him with alarm.] Moses writes: "My father's letter written 
 at Detroit was received by me at New Haven on Satur- 
 day evening, January 17; and, feeling assured that he 
 was near the end of this earthly life, I instantly packed 
 my travelling bag and started for Detroit via train to New 
 York, in the midst of a tremendous snow storm. There I 
 was snow-bound till the following Tuesday (20 Jan.), hav- 
 ing for my fellow-prisoner my new friend, Andrew D. 
 WTiite, then on his way to Syracuse, ostensibly to deliver 
 his lecture on Russia, but more particularly to see his beloved, 
 whom he afterward married. When, at last, the train started, 
 its progress was so slow that we were thirty hours in 
 reaching Albany. By that time the track had been cleared, 
 and I was enabled to get to Detroit by Friday afternoon, 
 January 23. As to myself, I repeat what I have before remarked, 
 that my coming to Detroit at this time is a cause of much 
 gratification. It seemed a great journey and a great 
 expense; but twenty years from now the thought of having 
 seen my father once more and of having contributed a 
 little to make his downward slope more happy, com- 
 pared with these other considerations, will seem too big for 
 expression." 
 
 [Moses Coit Tyler was graduated from Yale in 1857, and, 
 having decided to become a minister, at once"entered the Yale 
 theological school, studying there, and, in the following year, 
 at Andover, Mass.] 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 9 
 
 LETTERS FROM MOSES TYLER TO HIS MOTHER 
 
 Yale Seminary, August 15, i8j8 
 My dearest Mother: 
 
 It is Sabbath morning and I am enjoying a leisure and a 
 rest that are latterly very rare for me upon this sacred day. 
 The rain, for which the parched earth and the dust-browned city 
 have been begging all the week, is coming down in thin, fine 
 drops, distilling itself silently and yet swiftly with an incessant 
 flow. Oh, how it comes! It is a glorious old northeaster, a 
 watery emblem of constancy and perseverance. And I can 
 scarcely express to you the pleasure I feel in being permitted to 
 spend a quiet hour talking with my dearly cherished mother. 
 I know you feel disappointed in not seeing me this summer, and 
 I need not tell you how much I should rejoice, did all circum- 
 stances favor, to spend the summer with you. Yet it does not 
 seem possible. And so I suppose we must just take it as it 
 comes, living in hope of that good time coming when we shall 
 see each other more. I have had many pressing invitations from 
 western ministers to go West when I get ready to settle. And 
 who knows what may turn up? How nice it would be for the 
 mother and all her children to be living near each other once more. 
 
 And, my dearest mother, you must not give yourself up to 
 sadness. I know how lonely you must feel at times. The wid- 
 ow's heart is the very type of desolation. And there are doubtless 
 many things occurring in the friction of daily life to disturb and 
 perplex and sadden. But cheer up, mother dear! Your lot 
 is vastly happier than most. Every year now will tend to reheve 
 you. As your children get settled in Hfe they will find homes 
 for you in so many spots, where each shall vie with the other in 
 rendering your decUning years peaceful and happy. We all 
 love you, and with six loving children upon earth, you must 
 not feel that you are alone. 
 
 I mentioned in my former letter your writing to my dear 
 Jennie. When you do so it had better be in the same envelope 
 with a letter to me, as that would seem less formal. 
 
 In little over three weeks I go to Andover, to spend the coming 
 year. You will give me a letter before then, I trust. 
 
 "Your affectionate son Moses. 
 
lo MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Andover, October 24, 1858 
 
 My dearest Mother: 
 
 It happened that your good letter came while I was in the 
 midst of the cares and toils of packing up my effects at New 
 Haven and getting ready for moving. And I had put it down in 
 my memorandum paper to reply immediately after I reached 
 here, but as you see about six weeks have elapsed and I am only 
 just getting about it. 
 
 I have not had any letters from the girls since my arrival here, 
 and from Detroit nothing but a brief note of a few lines from 
 CharUe. So I am even less posted than usual in regard to the 
 recent movements of the beloved ones so far away. 
 
 I presume you have heard from my letters to others in the 
 family how delightful a place Andover seems to me. My resi- 
 dence is most agreeable. So far as daily duties and natural 
 scenery are concerned I have all that heart can desire. Every- 
 thing is pleasant, genial, just to my fancy. 
 
 I often think of my dear mother and wish it were my privilege 
 to see you oftener. It seems to me that the older I grow the 
 more sacred become the names of home and dear kindred. 
 I sometimes get to musing of past years, of the long, long ago, 
 at Burlington and Union City and the Phillips House at De- 
 troit, and the pottery, and copper stock, and of all those scenes, 
 sad and happy, which filled up my childhood. And then the 
 last six years appear to me like a dream, and I wake up and find 
 all things changed, our home broken up, our beloved father and 
 Eddy gone from us; and then ourselves so widely separated. 
 I cannot realize that we are the same persons that lived and 
 moved in that old familiar stage, ten and fifteen years ago, and I 
 almost lose my old identity. But I know we are the same and I 
 hope growing better and fitting ourselves for that blessed family 
 gathering above. Though I have deferred writing so long, I 
 yet hope that you will not imitate my example. 
 
 I want to hear from you very much. Tell me all about your 
 health and your daily pursuits and feelings. 
 
 Give my love to Susy, Olive and Albert and John. Ah, when 
 shall I be out of debt? Writing that last name brings with it 
 
 i 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER ii 
 
 a twinge of conscience, for I have owed that dear boy a long time 
 for the best letter he ever wrote. 
 
 In love, your son Moses. 
 
 [Moses Coit Tyler's marriage to Miss Jeannette Hull Gilbert, 
 of New Haven, took place on October 26, 1859, and of this 
 event he writes, on October 10, to a bachelor imcle as follows:] 
 
 Dear Uncle Edward: 
 
 When I left you last May it was with the resolution good 
 and strong that you should hear from me more frequently than 
 in the past. But the harvest is past and the summer is ended 
 and still I have not done it. And so now at last, in anticipation 
 of an event which is to happen in New Haven on the 26th inst., 
 I am driven, by all that is respectful and nephew-ly, to break the 
 silence. 
 
 You know that an old writer saith something about its not 
 being good for man to be alone. Of course, I do not quote this 
 to you, under the supposition that you endorse the sentiment, 
 but merely as an expression of my own condition. Sure am I, 
 at least, it is not good for a parson to be alone, and that is at 
 least one consoling evidence that parsons have one thing in com- 
 mon with human beings. 
 
 Now, Uncle Edward, if it is in your power and in your heart to 
 shake off the confinement of home for a little airing in the outside 
 world, come over to the Elm City and see us "do it." 
 
 Affectionately, Moses. 
 
 [The following letter, written after their marriage by his 
 friend Washington Gladden, was characterized by Moses Tyler 
 as the funniest letter ever written. It was addressed to Charles 
 Tyler, of Detroit, and is as follows:] 
 
 Nov. iij 18 jQ, Owego, N. Y. 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 A man caUing himself Moses Tyler and professing to be a 
 brother of yours, who has been preaching in the Congregational 
 church of this village for some time past, left this place for 
 
12 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 New Haven on or about the 24th of October for the avowed pur- 
 pose of getting married. On the 28th of October he wrote from 
 Albany, saying that he had been married, and should leave that 
 place for Niagara on his way to Detroit in about an hour. 
 Since that time we have not heard from him. He is about five 
 feet six inches high — broad shouldered — has very light hair 
 — walks fast, and has the appearance of being in a hurry when in 
 the streets. He has a youthful appearance — could not 
 be taken to be more than twenty-one years old — and a 
 stranger would consider him remarkably honest and disin- 
 genuous. When he left he wore a suit of black clothes and a 
 black silk hat. It is not certain whether he wore any under- 
 shirt or drawers or not; his washerwoman has not been 
 consulted. 
 
 For some time before he left, it was noticed that his deport- 
 ment had greatly changed. He was often observed gazing in- 
 tently upon the calendar which lay upon his table, and making 
 incoherent remarks about some event of which he was appre- 
 hensive. The last night he remained with us his conduct was 
 singularly mild and mysterious; and we are in great fear that 
 he may have been led by some hallucination into danger, if not 
 destruction. He spoke, when he went away, of visiting Niagara, 
 and we are afraid he has been led to attempt to rival Blondin by 
 carrying his wife (if he has one) across the river on his back. 
 At all events, something has happened to him or we should have 
 heard from him before this, as he promised us many times before 
 he left that he would write soon and often. If we do not hear 
 from him shortly we shall proceed to expose the effects which 
 he has left behind him for public sale. They are as follows: 
 One blue horse, four years old, with one watch eye and a great 
 proclivity to oats; saddle, bridle, and whip, currycomb and 
 brush; one overalls and shirt; half a bushel of oats, more or less 
 hay; an old pair of boots; a shovel, a lamp; an old straw hat; a 
 few quires of sermon paper, an inkstand, and some matches in a 
 safe; about a quarter of a cord of wood, and a large circle of 
 mourning friends. 
 
 Doubts having been expressed by his landlady and others 
 of his being any connection of yours, and great anxiety being 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 13 
 
 felt in regard to his whereabouts, we have addressed you on the 
 subject. If you know anything about him, please inform us 
 instantly. We shall not advertise him until we hear 
 from you. Washington Gladden. 
 
 [After the marriage they settled in Owego for one year, going 
 in September of i860 to Poughkeepsie, where they spent the 
 following two years, until overwork caused a breakdown. Aside 
 from his own ill health, this was to him a time of special anxiety, 
 as a brother, John, had enhsted in the army. This brother 
 was among the first young men in Michigan to respond to 
 President Lincoln's call for volunteers. He served through 
 the war, attaining the honor of brevet major of volunteers. 
 He was engaged in battle at Campbell's Station, East Tennessee, 
 on November 16, 1863, where he was twice wounded, one 
 musket ball penetrating through his left side, the other 
 through his left forearm. After the news of the first battle 
 of Bull Run, on July 22, 1861, Moses Tyler writes of these 
 events:] 
 
 It is about six o'clock and I am plunged in gloom over the 
 tidings from Washington. After a day of glory came a sundown 
 of infinite and unmitigable shame. If we may credit the tele- 
 grams, our soldiers have been frightened like sheep, and ran away, 
 ignominiously, from the phantom of a teamster's cowardly 
 imagination. O horrors! horrors! horrors! I want to hide my 
 head under the waves of the sea. But there's no use in boo- 
 hooing. I should show equal cowardice and folly, if even this 
 damnable transaction could take away my faith in this righteous 
 cause. No, I will not despair. It is the attribute of a good cause 
 that it must rise mightier even from disasters. And this infamy 
 shall be wiped out. I have watched the position of Johnny's 
 division throughout. We know not but the poor boy has been 
 slain. I see it stated that Colonel Wilcox is killed. Probably 
 John's regiment was in the thickest and deadhest of the fight. 
 
14 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 God! how hard it is to think of his possible sufferings, and 
 how hard not to think of them. Affectionately, Moses. 
 
 [Of his resignation from the pastorate, Moses Coit Tyler 
 writes to an uncle, on November 14, 1862, from Boston, as 
 follows:] 
 
 Dear Uncle: 
 
 I proceed to say that after my return to Poughkeepsie I was 
 again taken sick; and my whole state seemed so weak, incapable 
 of work, and perpetually shivering on the brink of good-for- 
 nothingness, that I was thoroughly disgusted and discouraged. 
 Moreover, the doctors told me what my own consciousness 
 confirmed, that this sort of business could not safely go on a great 
 while longer. I had been working too hard for some years, 
 and this more recent tendency to illness was only an alarm bell 
 informing me of my danger of completely breaking down. I 
 myself thought the hint was getting rather too broad for comfort, 
 and concluded to take it forthwith. Jenny was anxious that I 
 should give up the parish work and go away to recuperate. 
 When I brought the matter before the church, they urged me not 
 to resign, but take an indefinite leave of absence; they would 
 continue my salary and send me to the Mediterranean, to China, 
 to the West Indies, and I presume to the Devil, if they believed 
 the old gentleman could have restored me. I appreciated their 
 kindness and most respectfully decHned it. I did not wish the 
 church to hold a mortgage on me to such an extent. The upshot 
 of the whole business was I came to Boston to spend a few weeks 
 with Dr. Dio Lewis. And accordingly here I am. Thus far 
 the experiment works well. Freedom from the exhausting care of 
 a parish, together with the healthful exercises of Doctor Lewis's 
 gymnastic system, are working wonders upon me. Already am 
 
 1 beginning to feel myself a new man. I keep myself as cheerful 
 as I can under the circumstances. What I shall do next spring 
 when I get restored I do not exactly know. I have had a profess- 
 orship informally offered me in Vassar college and may conclude 
 to accept it. I have abundant openings for church settlements, 
 but I think I shall bid good-bye to clerical life. I was not built 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 15 
 
 for a parson. If I had a little cottage and a few acres of land, I 
 would take my books thither and devote myself exclusively to 
 literary pursuits. That is my passion and I think my mission; 
 and I don't think I shall feel like home until I get into some such 
 fix. Meanwhile I am going to work for that end. 
 
 Perhaps for a year or so I may devote myself to this new pro- 
 fession of physical culture. Doctor Lewis is anxious that I should, 
 and assures me it will pay handsomely. But time will tell. 
 
 My article on Vassar College has had better success than I 
 anticipated. The trustees have sent me an extremely compli- 
 mentary letter expressive of their thanks and accompanied by a 
 present of $50. This letter is all about myself, not from any 
 trivial egotism, but because your kind letter indicates such an 
 interest in me as renders a full exposition of my affairs due to you. 
 So you have it and I know you will not misinterpret my spirit. 
 
 Affectionately, Moses. 
 
 [On December 14, 1862, from Boston, Moses Coit Tyler writes 
 to his wife of the events at Fredericksburg:] 
 
 I wrote and mailed a letter for you this afternoon; and finding 
 myself in the mood I will improve the moments before bedtime 
 by spinning out a few more lines. My heart aches with anxiety 
 to know how Bumside's splendid dash across the Rappahannock 
 is likely to succeed, and all these general rays converge to a 
 searching focus in the thought of Johnny's possible fate. The 
 morning papers will doubtless contain vast news. . . . 
 
 I learned the other day some further facts about Miss Peabody. 
 The latter has during her life, amid the activities of a very wide 
 scholarship, given especial attention to two great branches, 
 theology and history. She is a gifted Hnguist and has written 
 considerably for the heavy quarterlies — like the North Ameri- 
 can. She was very intimate with Doctor Channing and imbibed 
 profoundly his ideas upon theology and has studied deeply all 
 systems of creed. She is said to be able in controversy. In history 
 she is deeply versed and has for years had advanced classes of 
 students in that department, whose reading she has guided, and 
 to whom she has expounded her philosophy. I think she is not 
 
i6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 free from the necessity of earning her own Hving, which she has 
 usually done by teaching, having been for many years distin- 
 guished in Boston by her enterprise in adopting all the latest 
 improvements in teaching. I think she is a remarkable woman, 
 although a sight of her bulky form and pulpy face and watery 
 eyes and a few minutes spent in hearing her talk about kinder- 
 garten would not particularly impress a stranger. She seemed 
 a Httle too fussy and kinky, but I doubt not, when at her ease 
 and properly drawn out by stimulating questions, she would 
 reveal both learning and original power. 
 
 I am daily more impressed with the right of Boston to the 
 name of Athens. It is the brain of this continent, the great 
 idea-breeder and thought-radiator. Great scholars, orators, 
 poets, philosophers are sprinkled in the throng of the streets; 
 while through the mass of the people are diffused an intense ac- 
 tivity of mind, culture, thought. The very atmosphere seems 
 charged with floating particles of intelligence and every breath 
 you draw an inhalation of knowledge with the stimulus to enjoy 
 and extend it. Dear me! Blessed old Poughkeepsie seems like 
 a big Dutch village off on the planet Jupiter. . . . MosE. 
 
 LETTERS FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Boston, December 17, 1862 
 The news from Burnside is very discouraging. The retreat 
 across the Potomac is so different from the glorious anticipations 
 we had been indulging. I know it can be said he has acted pru- 
 dently, doubtless, but the state of things which makes a retreat 
 prudent is the very thing at which I mourn. I fear that we have 
 neither statesmen nor warriors. I cannot but admire the mag- 
 nificent conduct of the Southern chieftains both in council and 
 in fight. They are vigilant, ingenious, unerring. Nothing but 
 the wickedness of their cause can ever defeat them. But enough 
 of pohtics. I have heard nothing of John since the recent 
 battles, but presume he is safe. Had it been otherwise we should 
 have heard. 
 
 Last Saturday evening I was sitting in the PubHc Library 
 when a tall man entered and commenced looking at the papers. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 17 
 
 I instantly thought, that must be Emerson. I had never seen 
 anything but the engraving of his face. I was not mistaken, as 
 I afterward learned. It is pleasant to live where such things 
 are apt to heave in sight occasionally. I am getting to be 
 Boston-cracked, as you perceive. . . . Moses. 
 
 Boston J 18 Dec, 1862 
 My own dearest Wiee: 
 
 PubHc affairs seem shrouded with gloom. The loss on our 
 side from last Saturday's battle proves to be vastly greater than 
 was anticipated. Fifteen thousand! Ugh! How dreadful I 
 I spent last evening with Mr. . It was a brilliant assem- 
 blage. I had a long talk with Miss Peabody, who was there, 
 and found her conversation very interesting. She is a scholar, 
 and it is a rare treat to hear her. The first impression of not 
 exactly liking her, which I before alluded to, wore off. She told 
 me a great deal about Emerson, his personal and domestic life, 
 his habits of study, writing, conversation, etc. She has had a 
 long acquaintance with him, has even Hved in his family. He is 
 possessed of a snug little property, leads the life of a philosopher, 
 is the most faithful and accurate man in the discharge of all the 
 duties of life. He always writes, instead of reads, when the spirit 
 moves, believing that his chief function is as a producer of thought 
 but he is besides an immense reader in old English, German, Orien- 
 tahsm, and in the natural sciences. He has a singular mode of 
 composing. He keeps a great blank book which he calls his 
 diary; in this he writes all thoughts which come into his mind 
 from day to day. It is the diary of his intellect. He lets his 
 pen run on in this book at its own sweet will, and the book thus 
 constitutes a kind of store house of all his best thoughts in their 
 freshest expression as they rise in glory in his mind; and it is by 
 picking out sentences from his book that all his essays, lectures, 
 etc., are made up. He is a great walker; goes out every day in 
 the woods, in which he delights to wander. His family is an 
 absolutely happy one, consisting of a wife and one son and 
 two daughters. I know that there are so many children, and 
 perhaps there are more. He is very mirthful at home and on 
 terms of beautiful familiarity with his children, by whom he is 
 
i8 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 worshipped. It is indeed a happy family — well provided for, 
 industrious, loving, and enjoying literature, music, and art. 
 Mrs. Emerson is a noble woman, very domestic, but in poor 
 health. 
 
 Mr. Emerson is the most rigidly truthful man, loathing all 
 exaggeration and inaccuracy of statement. While he is a tran- 
 scendentalist and a poet, he does not think himseK free from the 
 obhgations he is under as parent, neighbor or citizen. He is 
 not so much wrapped in his own sublimities as to forget the plain 
 everyday duties of Hfe. He watches all political movements; 
 keeps in close touch with the progress of the war. He is a round, 
 full, harmonious, and beautiful character, a great good man. He 
 is remarkable for his punctuality in keeping engagements, etc. I 
 have thus thrown together the outlines of what Miss Peabody 
 told me of Emerson. There were many details which fill up 
 this skeleton which I cannot make room to write, but you may 
 well imagine that I was deeply interested in listening to such 
 an enthusiastic and appreciative friend of the great philoso- 
 pher. . . . Thy Husband. 
 
 Boston, 22 DeCj 1862 
 . . . The wildest stories are flying about revolutions in cabi- 
 nets and disasters in the field. I am sick of them. This nation 
 might be saved by the exertions of some splendid genius. Alas! 
 none such has appeared. Red tape and rottenness are all we have 
 to save us. I would I could lay my heart to sleep till this imbe- 
 cility were passed. But I take that back. It is a cowardly wish. 
 We are in a dark period. I have been intending to give you 
 an account of my evening call at Mr. Garrison's, but while it was 
 fresh in my mind I did not do it; and now I do not feel like it. 
 I must wait till the spirit moves. 
 
 Your Loving Husband. 
 
 Boston^ December 26^ 1862 
 My Darling: 
 
 I am invited to spend the evening at the Garrisons'. I beUeve 
 there is to be a Httle company there, among others Wendell 
 Phillips. I shall try to give you some description of it to-mor- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 19 
 
 row. Mr. Garrison himself is a lofty and lovely nature, full of 
 divine benevolence, and radiating kindness upon all. If every- 
 body could know him there would not be a reviler of the Apostle 
 of AboHtionism left upon the earth. . . . Moses. 
 
 Boston, Dec. 27, 1862 
 My Darling: 
 
 As I told you yesterday of my expectation to spend the even- 
 ing at Mr. Garrison's, I went accordingly. The party was 
 somewhat different from my anticipations, being mostly of young 
 people. Mr. Phillips was not there. There was nothing unique. 
 It was mostly a pleasant, chatty, gamesome, musical sociable. 
 I was inducted into the awful mysteries of muggins, which 
 doubtless is an old acquaintance of yours. I had no special 
 conversation with Mr. Garrison, which would have been an en- 
 joyment prized above anything else. The colloquial speech of 
 a gifted and cultivated man seems to me the greatest luxury to 
 enjoy. Next Friday our normal course begins, much to my joy. 
 It will seem like the beginning of the end of my exile from 
 you. . . . Thy Husband. 
 
 Boston, Jan. i, i86j 
 The first letter of the year, my darHng, let me dedicate to 
 you. I remember to have seen a letter by John Adams to his 
 wife on the day of the Declaration of Independence. After 
 alluding to the event, he predicts that future generations will 
 celebrate the day with the ringing of beUs, with bonfires, and 
 all the other methods of popular jubilation. I think the date 
 at the top of this letter is the greatest one for America and perhaps 
 for the human family since July 4, 1776. To-day goes forth that 
 glorious edict which strikes off the chains of those miUions of 
 slaves and hberates the nation from the viler slavery of a terrible 
 iniquity. 
 
 The Bos_.iians are giving the day a fitting welcome. Tre- 
 mont Temple is open all day and speeches are being made by 
 Fred Douglass and others. Music HaU was filled this afternoon 
 by a highly fashionable audience to listen to a magnificent mu- 
 
20 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 sical performance in honor of the day. It is under the auspices 
 of Longfellow, Lowell, Emerson, Whittier, and Holmes and 
 others. Thy Husband. 
 
 Boston, 8 Jan., i86j 
 I had the pleasure this afternoon of calling on Wendell Phillips. 
 He lives near Doctor Lewis's office in a plain three-story double 
 brick house. He is a very rich man by inheritance and marriage, 
 but his residence is of the commonest appearance without and 
 within. I understand that his income is about $15,000 per 
 year. He is very liberal to the poor, especially to the Negroes, 
 though his charities are by stealth. There is a beautiful fellow- 
 ship between the anti-slavery people of New England, and Mr. 
 Phillips is beloved and honored by them almost to adoration. 
 Perhaps you have heard that Mrs. Phillips has been an invalid 
 all her life. She was marrried in her bed and has remained there 
 ever since. It is said that Mr. P. is extremely devoted to her, 
 and has been very much molded by her sweet and restraining 
 and inspiring influence. 
 
 Mr. Phillips received me very affably and in a manner so 
 simple that I at once felt quite at my ease. He has no airs nor 
 pomposity, but is frank, cordial, and dehcate. I had dreaded to 
 approach the lion, but all my fears fled the instant he opened 
 his lips. 
 
 He commenced by alluding to Poughkeepsie and telling me 
 he was to lecture there to-morrow night. Then the conversation 
 bore upon my coming to Boston and the general subject of health. 
 He expressed a very high opinion of Doctor I-,ewis and his system: 
 its adaptedness to the needs of the world at this time, etc., etc. 
 And after asking me if I intended to teach it, he expressed the 
 opinion that there was in it a great field for usefulness and success. 
 Then I asked him whether his own health through life had always 
 been good and whether he had taken special pains to preserve 
 and maintain it. He replied that with but slight exceptions he 
 had always had excellent health; and he attributed this mainly 
 to care as to his food and drink, and what Goethe calls ''the 
 talent of sleeping"; that he was the only lecturer save Henry 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 21 
 
 Ward Beecher who had maintained a long career of lecturing 
 without breaking down; that when he was a student at Cam- 
 bridge he was very zealously devoted to the arts of boxing and 
 fencing and horsemanship; that he had never led a strictly seden- 
 tary life; that every summer he took a long free vacation of eight 
 or twelve weeks which he devoted to swimming, boating, fishing, 
 riding, swinging in trees in the woods, etc., etc., but that, after all, 
 his main resource was upon rest, by sleep and freedom from brain 
 work; that Parker utterly neglected his health and cut his own 
 grave by unceasing toil, never relieving himself from pulpit 
 tasks for a single sermon year in and year out, till Emerson and 
 he persuaded him to let them occasionally preach for him. 
 
 I asked him whether he (Phillips) came back from lecturing 
 campaigns exhausted. He said no, but quite otherwise. He 
 would be off six or eight weeks at a stretch, but slept more than 
 half the time on the cars. He gave me some amusing stories 
 of how he evaded the oppression of bores on the cars who were 
 inclined to pounce upon him and make him talk and waste his 
 strength in that way. He had found that a French book or a 
 Greek one kept back inquisitive people much better than an 
 English one, they seeming to be awed by the sight of his reading 
 a volume in a foreign language. He said that Theodore Parker 
 always carried on profound studies in travelling, among others, 
 learned Russian that way; that for his own part, he avoided talk- 
 ing in the cars as much as possible, and would often squelch a 
 bore by "going very politely and gracefully to sleep." Our 
 conversation then changed and — lest I should tempt the great 
 orator to practise upon me some of his arts for the extinguishment 
 of bores — I rose and took my leave. He bade me good-bye very 
 pleasantly, and in his most sincere tones urged me to run in and 
 see him often while I was in Boston. 
 
 I have thus given you a sketch of my interview with Mr. 
 Phillips. You must remember it pretends to be only an outline. 
 It does not represent either the language he used or the filling up 
 of thoughts, and especially the exquisite felicity and democratic 
 grace of his manner — his bright, serene, intellectual face — 
 his playful lips and speculative eyes — and the fine, relaxed 
 naivete of his postures. Still, defective as it must be, I thought 
 
^2 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 you would be pleased to have a description of this interview with 
 a man of illustrious rank in the world whose influence upon the 
 destinies of American civilization has been and will be incalcu- 
 lable and whose name will be one of the few shining and immortal 
 legacies of this age to posterity. . . . Thy Husband. 
 
 Boston J I Feb., 1863 
 ... I went this a. m. to Trinity Church. It was expected 
 that General McClellan, who is now in town and is being out- 
 rageously lionized, would be present; and on this popular scent an 
 unusually large concourse was present and hundreds stood in 
 the street about the doors to see him pass in and out. Alas! they 
 were sold and I too. The General concluded to stay away. 1 
 am very anxious to see his face. There is to be a public reception 
 at his hotel to-morrow and I shall run the risk of smashing in 
 my ribs in order to see him and shake his hand. . . . 
 
 Thy Husband. 
 
 Boston, 4 Feb., 1863 
 . . . General McClellan is receiving great attention. He is 
 treated like a prince. I had the honor of being presented to him 
 and of shaking his hand. He is a splendid-looking fellow; a little 
 shorter than I, with a magnificent form in its proportions; a 
 frank, generous, open face; light hair and moustache. . . . 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 1863 — 1866 
 
 [On April 16, 1863, Moses Coit Tyler sailed on a ship called the 
 Victoria, and, after a voyage of eighteen days, landed in England, 
 expecting to find a new home in a foreign land. He established 
 himself in London for the next three years, at the end of which 
 time he returned to America to accept a professorship of English 
 literature, at Michigan University. While Uving abroad he 
 made trips for lecturing purposes into Wales, and many comers 
 of England, at the same time getting acquainted with the people 
 and the Hfe, Besides lecturing and teaching, during this period, 
 he wrote continuously for the Independent and other New York 
 papers, thus gradually making a name for himself. Soon after 
 his arrival in London, in a diary letter, he chronicles his first 
 impressions:] "Here I am in the greatest city this earth 
 ever bore up on its shaky crust! You know I told you I 
 had studied the map of London so much that I thought 
 I could find my way if I were suddenly set down in the city. 
 Now was a good opportunity to try. I had nothing to carry. 
 I had been told of good lodgings at 11 Craven street. Strand. 
 Very well, I said to myself, I will just try to walk there without 
 asking anybody how to go, and I did it. I landed at Euston 
 Square. I knew the names of the streets I wanted to pass 
 through to get to Craven street, and I just walked out of the 
 depot as familiarly as if I had been there fifty years, identified 
 street after street as I came to it, went directly to Craven street, 
 and to No. 11, rang the bell, called for Mrs. Henley, said 'How do 
 you do?* and went to my room, where I sit now perfectly at home." 
 
 33 
 
24 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 London, June 5, 186$. It is now quite late. I have been 
 out this evening to quite a brilliant party at Dr. Brown-Se- 
 quard's, where, in the course of the evening, I had the honor of 
 preaching a httle Muscular Christianity, and of explaining the 
 methods of the new gymnastics. Dr. Brown-Sequard is an 
 eminent French savant, a great medical writer, and in large 
 practice as a physician. His wife is an American lady, a niece 
 of Daniel Webster. Dr. Brown-Sequard has great influence, 
 and, if he throws it in my favor, can be of immense benefit to 
 me. He seemed highly pleased, and said he should soon call 
 upon me for assistance (as he expressed it) in connection with 
 some of his patients. 
 
 London, June 7, 1862. This is quite an era in my history. 
 I have been to hear the famous Spurgeon in his new tabernacle. 
 It is an immense stone edifice and holds seven thousand people, 
 and is filled every Sunday morning and evening. I was greatly 
 pleased with the interior of this great temple. It is plain and 
 simple, but very grand; has a bright, airy, cheerful, sunny look. 
 It is very long, and has two huge galleries running around the 
 four sides. It is a finer spectacle even than Beecher's. Every 
 space from floor to ceiling seems filled with human heads. Spur- 
 geon himseK, surrounded by men and women, stands on a great 
 scaffolding or platform very high up. The singing is con- 
 gregational and tremendous. They have a precentor who has 
 a rich, loud voice. There is no organ or other artificial instru- 
 ment of sound; but seven thousand throats pouring forth their 
 notes in one vast current make a volume of sound which would 
 almost drown the loudest organ. As to Spurgeon himself, 
 he is certainly a powerful and able man, but a thousand leagues 
 behind Henry Ward Beecher. I think his success is owing to 
 his voice, which is rich beyond praise and modulated with great 
 beauty; to his downright earnestness, singleness, boldness, and 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 25 
 
 honesty; to his amazing fluency of speech; to his tact and knack 
 of putting things. But he has absolutely none of Beecher's 
 breadth of philosophic thought and ideality and spiritual crea- 
 tiveness. Consequently his prayers are commonplace, straight- 
 forward, and rather dictatorial hortations to somebody called 
 God, but utterly destitute of the soul-Hf ting simplicity, pathos, 
 and poetic beauty of Beecher's, that exquisite, wonderful, 
 empyrean spirituahty and tenderness of filial reverence which 
 make one of Beecher's prayers worth going around the globe 
 to hear. 
 
 Then, Spurgeon's sermon was just like those published, ghb, 
 felicitous, having hits and sharp points, but narrow, textual, 
 absolutely barren of thought, simply a well put exhortation and 
 a very good, pious talk. 
 
 London, November 4, 1864.. Lectured on American oratory 
 at Mr. B.'s school at seven. Before the lecture, sitting in the 
 
 parlor, was introduced to a slight, pale lad. Lord K . He 
 
 has special privileges; seems not to occupy the boys' mess- 
 rooms, etc. Never having shaken hands with a lord, I did not 
 know what to do when the introduction was pronounced. He 
 instantly rose, most cordially and without patronizing gave me 
 his hand. I had quite a chat with him. He had the perfect 
 courtesy of a true gentleman of rank; but in thought and ex- 
 pression indicated perhaps less than the average force. Mr. B. 
 in private, criticised America in the usual fashion which I have 
 heard ad nauseam. He is like all the rest on the American 
 question, an Englishman with an infinite, quiet complacency, 
 Hking to preach to America of humility. 
 
 London, December 16, 1864. Returned from Barnet this 
 P. M., with Mrs. Bayly, author of Ragged homes and how to 
 mend them. She told me the story of Mrs. Balfour's Hfe. 
 
 Mrs. Balfour was born of wealthy and highly respectable par- 
 
26 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 ents; was sent to boarding-school, where her voracious tastes for 
 reading extended beyond the privileges of the school. A servant 
 boy, who cleaned the girls' boots, used to smuggle to her such con- 
 traband literature as she chose to order; and when she was only 
 sixteen years old she ran away with this boy and was married. 
 Her friends totally repudiated her, and she sank out of notice. 
 Years after, walking through some poor street, Doctor Burns saw 
 a woman cleaning the doorsteps. He judged from her face and 
 bearing that she was not born in such a station; he spoke with her, 
 learned her history, and at once tried to help her. He discovered 
 that she possessed rare powers of mind, and he urged her to write 
 for the press or to lecture. That poor woman is now the 
 renowned Clara Lucas Balfour! "But," said I, "are not her 
 relatives now proud to own her?" "Oh, no; they look upon 
 lecturing as very common!" In that sentence speaks the heart 
 of English social life. 
 
 December i8, 1864. London. I lectured at the London 
 Mechanics' Institution to-night. I incidentally mentioned the 
 name of the Confederate General Lee, at which a storm of cheers 
 broke out, succeeded by hisses, and then a war of sounds 
 tumultuous. At another point I named Abraham Lincoln, 
 at which many hisses, then counter cheers, etc. We were 
 expecting to get the news this evening of his re-election. 
 
 London, December 21, 1864. Met this evening a French lady. 
 Madam Ver, who has seen much of the nobility and distinguished 
 people. Has met Macaulay and Gladstone. She says Macau- 
 lay talked just as he wrote, a stream of brilliant, epigrammatic, 
 sarcastic, and glowing eloquence; was a great talker, incessant. 
 He was bearish to strangers on their being introduced. Seemed 
 to know that they were staring at him; and had a gruff way of 
 saluting them with a forward lunge of his head and whirling 
 partly around in his chair to avert his face from them. But 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 27 
 
 after the ceremony was over and the ice melted he was most 
 cordial, kindly, modest, unassuming. She says Gladstone, 
 however, is always far gentler; except when he gets upon his 
 political horse, when his eyes flame with fire and his tongue 
 rolls forth torrents of excited talk. 
 
 London, February 8, 1865. Went this evening to a reception 
 at Aubrey House, Notting Hill. Called for Moncure Conway, 
 and was conducted in by him. Conway expects great harm to 
 our cause from Louis Napoleon, who is waiting for the humbhng 
 of the South to secure his own terms, get them under his grasp, 
 and thus control the cotton and gold fields of the world. The 
 company seemed, to my novice eyes, quite splendid. Aubrey 
 House is as old as Queen Anne's time, with walls three feet thick, 
 and is near the celebrated Holland House. Mr. Taylor told us 
 that in the latter a cannon was fired off every night at precisely 
 eleven o'clock. This suggested to some one the story of the 
 Irishman who, hearing a gun discharged in a garrison and being 
 told that it was the sunset gun, wanted to know if the sun made 
 such a devil of a noise in that country every time it set.. Mr. 
 Holyoake was there, whom Conway described as the most cele- 
 brated atheist now living. He is a fine, intellectual, brave 
 looking man, with a woman's voice and gentle ways. He has 
 gone through imprisonment and vast obloquy for his opinions. 
 He told me that he suffered acutely from abuse. Sometimes 
 he had been praised and applauded, and then he scarcely knew 
 how to take it, it was so strange. 
 
 London, February 11, 1865. This morning went to St. 
 Peter's Chapel to hear Rev. F. D. Maurice. I made out the 
 face of Thomas Hughes, whose head, hairless upon top, peered 
 just above the pew on the left of the pulpit. I knew him from 
 his photographs. I was surprised at the curate yawning hugely. 
 
28 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 and several times in the pauses of the service opening his jaws 
 portentously, and the last time covering the aperture with the 
 hymn book, the corner of which he proceeded to nibble after his 
 yawn was completed. What could not some Yankee TroUope 
 or Zola make of this? The whole effect of the sermon was to 
 enrich, sweeten, humble and strengthen the spiritual natures of 
 those who heard. 
 
 Wales, January i8, 1866. After reaching Bristol and putting 
 up at the Bristol eating house kept by a T. Gregor, in the clean 
 dining-room upstairs, to my surprise, I saw as I entered, hanging 
 on the wall, a large map of Auburn, Cayuga county. New York, 
 date 1857. In this distant spot, amid so many strange scenes, 
 the sight of it was like the face of an old friend. I have been 
 looking at it with delight. I find huge placards all about the 
 town announcing me for next Tuesday as "The Great American 
 Orator!" On the train I went into a smoking carriage. Avery 
 glib and somewhat flashy young gentleman entered soon after 
 and commenced conversation, referring to his having crossed the 
 Atlantic six times. I put a great many questions to him about 
 America, and he gave me much valuable information upon the 
 subject. He owned five thousand acres of land near Nashville, 
 "supposed I had heard of Nashville," etc. He seemed very 
 full of admiration for the Americans, liked them and their ways, 
 their railroads, etc. Was in New York when the news of Lin- 
 coln's assassination came; said he never saw people "so cut 
 up"; offered me whiskey and drank my health "with his regards." 
 He advised me to go to America for a few months; was sure it 
 would interest me. As to this Auburn map, I find the owner 
 went there in 1857 and stayed a few months, got discouraged and 
 came home. Last night I talked with some commercial travellers 
 and was amazed at their glib ignorance. One man said that 
 America was originally settled by spirit rappers, somewhere 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 29 
 
 about 1760 or so. He had read it in a history of America by 
 somebody; he forgot who. 
 
 Cardiff, Wales, January 20, 1866. I have been out on the 
 streets this evening. They are very foul. Especially in Bute 
 street and lanes leading to it, there are hell holes blazing and 
 fuming. I was never more disgusted. I have not seen whoring 
 so coarsely displayed before. The sailors are the chief patrons. 
 I went into many of the dens; the men were swinish and the 
 women beastly. There are no mitigations of the business. It 
 was sickening. I observed in my walk to-day through the 
 country that nearly all the placards were of quack doctors of 
 secret diseases; ominous of Welsh customs. In the very midst 
 of these filthy caverns was a Gospel hall. Tired, dirty, and 
 disgusted, I went to the hotel and to bed at ten. 
 
 Caerphilly, Sunday, January 21, 1866. As it rained on my 
 arrival, partly for shelter and partly for curiosity I hunted out 
 the Welsh Baptist meeting house and attended service. I could 
 not understand one word. Saw now and then a Bible name and 
 knew " Christmas, E-vans." I stood in the little space by the 
 door and several who peeped pointed me to a seat. The minister 
 was going it strong. I saw by his attitude that he was praying. 
 He was a Celtic looking young chap with a rather modest face, 
 thick and unctuous with a rotund voice, somewhat hoarse. 
 As he approached the end of his prayer he reached white heat; 
 his voice was suffused with enthusiasm; a distinct rhythm per- 
 vaded his sentences, which were delivered with a wild, strange, 
 and rapturous chant. It was fine; quite Druidic or Celtic. At 
 the end of the service they brought in a loaf of bread and wine, 
 and I walked out with the goats and came home. I am now 
 off for the Cardiff ruins. 
 
 Sunday evening. I saw the ruins. They are majestic, vast, 
 imposing, solemn, the most impressive I have yet seen. I 
 
30 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 climbed the old towers and gazed long from the old peep-holes. 
 One can't help trying to clothe these old ruins with the splendid 
 life of feudal times. I lay down under the famous leaning tower 
 but could not frighten myself. 
 
 Cardiff, January 22, 1866. Have just returned from a call 
 upon the American consul, Mr. Birch. I was entertained by 
 an account of the applications made to him for passage to 
 America. A crowd of men and women stood in front of the house 
 and every moment some one would knock at the door to know if he 
 might put his name down to go to America. It seems that about 
 a week ago Mr. Birch sent out a few (one hundred) pamphlets 
 as a feeler, containing the later laws of the United States concern- 
 ing encouragement to emigration. He says they would go by 
 the thousand, both Irish and Welsh. It was touching to see the 
 poor people assembled in the streets, standing in the pouring 
 rain and gazing upward at the window, as if destiny dwelt in 
 the American consul's office. They even appeared to think 
 they could read their fate in my face. We had a very pleasant 
 talk about the antiquities of the district, English politics, etc. 
 Mr. Birch thought England was now held back as a power in 
 the world by the fact that it was nominally one thing and really 
 another, pretending to be a monarchy and really a republic; that 
 the power of England was wasted in the conflict between the 
 elements of aristocracy and democracy. France as a pure 
 monarchy, America as a pure republic, were instances of the 
 power of a nation where being and seeming were in harmony. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 London, Sept. 15, 1866 
 My OWN DARLING Jennie: 
 
 Your letter dated August 14 found me at Ramsgate, where 
 I spent a very profitable week. The sea air braced me up and 
 gave me inspiration for my lecture on England, at which I worked 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 31 
 
 hard and happily every morning. I am happy to say that I 
 have been safely delivered of the lecture and am as well as could 
 be expected. The brat only lacks now a little polishing up and 
 a tail, and he'll be ready. I was very lonely, or at least should 
 have been had I not been so busy. Never before since I have 
 been abroad has there been such a mob of Americans as now. 
 I have to-day called on Mr. Ivison and family. He is the cele- 
 brated publisher of the firm of Ivison and Phinney and has 
 brought letters from Boston people. I have engaged to spend 
 part of Monday with them, and pilot them about London. They 
 are very rich and go in style. I have also been piloting Miss 
 Alcott, of Concord, author of Moods and Hospital sketches. She 
 is a jolly Yankee girl, full of the old Nick and thoroughly posted 
 on English literature, so that it is great fun to take her about, as 
 she appreciates all the literary associations. We have had some 
 most ludicrous adventures in the old haunts of London. She 
 had resolved to see the street in which "Sairy Gamp" lived if 
 she saw nothing else. So I took her to Kingsgate street, and 
 after we had gawked through it and had fixed upon a house we 
 thought most likely to have been Sairy's, the idea entered my 
 head that it would be rare fun to inquire at the shop for Mrs. 
 Gamp, as if she were a real person. Well, the conversation I 
 had at the shop door with the people who thought it all earnest 
 was kiUing. Miss Alcott had continually to turn her back to 
 hide her laughing and finally ran away to the end of the street 
 to let off. You know she is of the Emerson and Hawthorne set. 
 Her enthusiasm and appreciation of drollery reminded me con- 
 tinually of Susy, who would have relished our adventure beyond 
 measure, as would you. Moses. 
 
 [The following letter from Louisa M. Alcott, although chrono- 
 logically out of place, is inserted here on accoimt of its connection 
 with the preceding event:]' 
 
 Boston, January j, 1868 
 My dear Mr. Tyler: 
 
 On my return yesterday from a holiday lark I was agree- 
 ably surprised to find your letter. It is very good of you not to 
 mind being called a chump, and put in print "j'intly" with an 
 
32 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 irrepressible spinster on the rampage. But I did have such a 
 good time that day, thanks to my prince of guides, that when I 
 was ordered to write a sketch I couldn't resist trying to tell 
 the fun of that expedition. As you perceive, the last part is 
 an addition for you, and I didn't eat meat pie nor visit the monu- 
 ment. But I did, with Mr. K , one of the young bachelors, 
 
 and though that trip was like the play of Hamlet minus the 
 prince, I thought it would make a proper finale for Dickens 
 day and, availing myself of the literary license, I up and did it. 
 
 If Mr. Johnson asks for any more, I'll give him No. 2 of the 
 same sort, for I think the world would enjoy an account of the 
 professor tapping away at Milton's chimney for a bit of the 
 original brick, and eating gingerbread out of a paper bag in 
 Smithfield, not to mention insinuating himself and party into the 
 Charter House and sundry other famous places by the persuasive 
 power of "the cherubic countenance." 
 
 Tell Mrs. Gage not to get prophetic, for L. M. A. is a chronic 
 spinster and knew that the professor was already appropriated, 
 so she could enjoy London with a free mind and find balm for 
 her solitary soul in that memorable mixture of shrines and shil- 
 lings, history and happiness, mud and metaphysics. 
 
 I still cherish the dream of returning for another novel, in dear, 
 dirty, delightful London, for I enjoyed myself there more than 
 anjrwhere else and felt at home. Before sailing I'll drop you a 
 line suggesting that you put your university in one pocket, your 
 wife in the other, and come too. 
 
 I have had several very pleasant letters from Mrs. Taylor 
 and the Conway s and from time to time have enjoyed your 
 articles in the Independent, especially the House of Commons 
 letter, for I wanted it shown up and couldn't do it myself, 
 because^ being stowed in the cage, my "mission was limited," 
 which remark reminds me that I've heard Dickens read again, and 
 though I enjoyed it very much, I couldn't set up again this 
 idol who fell with a crash last year in London. Why will he 
 wear two rivers of watch guards meandering over his vest, a 
 diamond ring on each hand, curl his gray hair, and come upon 
 the stage with a youthful skip? Oh, why? I am spending the 
 winter in Boston and having a capital time. If you ever come 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 33 
 
 this way call at "Gamp's Garret," No. 6 Haywood place, and 
 try the "cowcumber." With regards to your wife and "the 
 orphans," I am yours truly in a corner, 
 
 Louisa M. Alcott. 
 
 London, November 14, 1866. Visited Highgate cemetery. 
 The chapel of the grammar school is built over Coleridge's 
 grave. The workmen saw me looking through the little church. 
 I asked them where Coleridge was buried. They did not know, 
 but said if I would apply to Mr. Eagles, a seedsman, he could tell. 
 I found his shop and him, an elderly, tall, and venerable man with 
 none of the usual manner of small English tradesmen. He 
 promptly directed me; but when I said I came from a distant 
 country where Coleridge was greatly honored, from America, 
 his face brightened. "This is very extraordinary," he said. 
 " I have had a great many American gentlemen here for the same 
 errand in former years before the war. I shall be most happy 
 to go with you myself. I am going that way." He soon got 
 ready, apologizing for detaining me so long. On the way he 
 told me he had lived there all his life, that he had often seen and 
 talked with Coleridge, that he was himself apprenticed to a gar- 
 dener, and used to see Coleridge with his long flowing locks 
 pacing up and down beneath the elms with a book in hand. 
 He had many talks with him. His tones , he said, he should al- 
 ways remember, they were so rich and beautiful and kind. Cole- 
 ridge was a great favorite with the little boys and girls of the 
 place, who used to rush up to him and hold long and merry inter- 
 views with him. Mr. Eagles remembers that a little man used 
 to lodge at his master's; and he remembers a company meeting 
 there one night which included Charles Lamb, Coleridge, and 
 others. He heard Coleridge's voice much of the time. They 
 got very merry over their wine, and when one gave the toast 
 "Here's to the lasses, " some one else, with an offering of glasses, 
 threw two large trays of them on the floor. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 1867 — 1869 
 
 [On December 5, 1866, Moses Coit Tyler sailed on an Inman 
 steamer that left Liverpool for America. He returned many 
 times to England to revisit old haunts, but never to make it his 
 permanent home. During those years in England he had made 
 great efforts to keep the wolf from the door, but lecturing and 
 such writing as he could get from American newspapers had 
 furnished but insufficient support.] 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Chicago, January 3, 1867 
 My Darling: 
 
 ... It seems all a dream. I have not been in Rockford. I 
 am not in America. Your next letter should be addressed to 
 337 Strand, London, as usual. 
 
 However, I reached Chicago in due season. Edward Forman 
 was waiting for me. He knew me instantly, as I did him. 
 had his guidance to see Mr. Brown, who said it was too late in 
 the season to do anything, but he would take pleasure in helping 
 me another year. I then saw Norman Perkins in his law office. 
 He looked at me a full minute before he recognized me and then 
 nearly hugged me to death. I am engaged to lecture in Detroit 
 January 23. I leave for the East to-morrow at ten and shall ar- 
 rive in Poughkeepsie about noon Saturday. Shall stop there 
 over Sunday and leave for Worcester Monday. Stop in Wor- 
 cester over night and go to New Bedford the next day. Shall 
 return to New York and lecture in Poughkeepsie Friday. . . . 
 
 MosES. 
 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 35 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Poughkeepsie, July 31, i86y 
 My Darling: 
 
 I have accepted the professorship in Michigan Univer- 
 sity. I cannot express to you how happy I am to have this 
 suspense removed. I have been in very low spirits, or, rather, 
 perturbed spirits, during the crisis. To-day my writing inspira- 
 tion has come back to me with all its old vim. The university 
 does not open until about October i. Shall remain here and in 
 New York two weeks longer and then go to Ypsilanti to be ready 
 to receive my precious treasures. , . . 
 
 Your Husband. 
 
 [During those anxious months Moses Coit Tyler was putting 
 material together for his first book, called The Brawnville papers, 
 being memorials of the so-called Brawnville Athletic Club. 
 These papers were originally written for the Herald of health. 
 They were on the general subject of physical culture, but were 
 somewhat changed in book form. They were published in 
 Boston by Field, Osgood & Company in 1869.] 
 
 LETTER FROM CHARLES WARREN STODDARD TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 2ist August, i86p, San Francisco, Cal. 
 My dear Professor: 
 
 Let me thank you for a book so full of Hfe and health — 
 namely, The Brawnville papers. It should have been born in 
 our climate. I found them in Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands, 
 recently, where I was sojourning temporarily as a correspondent 
 of the Bulletin of this city. 
 
 May I ask a favor of you? Do you think a fellow of six and 
 twenty without a standing reputation to back him could do any- 
 thing with a lecture on the Sandwich Islands in the East? I 
 know he could burn it, if he liked, so please don't suggest that. 
 I should like to try my fortune away from home, and your first 
 chapter is so electrical that I cannot resist asking your opinion 
 
36 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 upon this little matter. I send you a few of my verses. They 
 are out of a volimie that died early. I hope they won't bore you. 
 Your true and grateful friend, 
 Charles Warren Stoddard. 
 
 LETTERS FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Syracuse, N. F., Sunday, August 4, 1867 
 My Darling: 
 
 You will be rather surprised to get a letter from me at 
 this place. I went up to Albany on Friday, but Mr. White did 
 not arrive that evening. He was delayed at Boston. But he 
 came early the next morning and found me in bed at the Delavan 
 House. 
 
 "Come, Moses, go with me down to Syracuse. I can't stop 
 to talk with you here." So I dressed, got breakfast, and was 
 off. We arrived here about one, and Mr. White's carriage was 
 waiting for us. He inherits wealth and lives in noble style. 
 His family are decidedly of the aristocracy of this state, what- 
 ever that may be worth. His home is full of noble pictures and 
 engravings; but his library is the most wonderful collection of 
 history that I have ever seen in private possession. It con- 
 sists of some six thousand volumes. Many of his books are from 
 the private libraries of, and with marginal notes by. Lord Macau- 
 lay, Leigh Hunt, Southey, Buckle, Charles Lamb. 
 
 He is a glorious fellow and treats me as he has always done, 
 with great kindness. I consider him the most promising young 
 man I know. We have had a good deal of talk about professor- 
 ship matters. He wants me to hold myself ready for Cornell. 
 
 I had intended to return to New York to-morrow, but he says 
 I must wait over till Tuesday and he will go with me. So I 
 shall stay over. . . . Thy Husband. 
 
 New York, August g, 1867 
 My Darling: 
 
 Your good long letter of the fourth came to-day. It 
 was very refreshing to me. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 37 
 
 I am so glad that you like the plan of going to Ann Arbor. 
 I should be very happy if we could manage to go to housekeeping 
 there. Perhaps we can. We will look for a furnished house 
 and see what can be done. The salary is not large, only fifteen 
 hundred, but perhaps that is as much as two thousand or more 
 at the East. But certainly we can live on that; and all that I 
 can earn by lecturing and writing must go for so much extra, 
 to pay debts, and then to get a home. 
 
 I had a charming time yesterday. Spent the afternoon and 
 evening with Mr. Tilton and Richard Grant White, the famous 
 Shakespearean critic. 
 
 I shall expect to meet you in Ypsilanti two weeks from this 
 morning. Good! Thy Husband. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS BROTHER, MAJOR TYLER 
 
 November 4th, 1867, Ann Arbor 
 Dear John: 
 
 I have been intending for many weeks to write to you, 
 but the pressure of my new duties here has absorbed all my time 
 and strength. I have never before been so perfectly pleased with 
 life as at present. My professorship here is that of rhetoric 
 and English literature, of which the salary now is only fifteen 
 hundred. We expect the legislature to make a grant this winter 
 which will raise the salaries all around to at least two thousand 
 dollars. I have perfect freedom to go away and lecture, and 
 expect to add by that means at least a thousand to my income. 
 We have a nice little box of a cottage and are as snug as mice. 
 Affectionately, your brother, Mose. 
 
 August 2, 1868. To-day I become thirty-three years old. 
 Seven years ago I clearly recognized the inward call to a life of 
 study, and all my flounderings since then, going out of the minis- 
 try, staying with Doctor Lewis, emigrating to England, coming 
 home again, have been but awkward strugglings to get a resting 
 place for my ideal scheme to stand upon.. Now at last, in the free- 
 
38 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 dom from anxiety, from restraint of every kind, which I find here, 
 in the healthful solitude and domestic peace of this tree embow- 
 ered cottage, do I find what I so long sought. Surely no time 
 is absolutely wasted in this world; else, for the purposes which 
 now control me, I should look upon the first thirty-two years 
 of my life as nearly so. Even from this long experience of effort 
 misdirected' and of energy revolving fruitlessly upon itself I 
 shall extract good; for the knowledge of what is false is the pro- 
 logue to the knowledge of what is true. Besides, the discipline 
 of real life is directly educational. 
 
 This is the most intelligently happy birthday I have yet had. 
 Long sailing this way and that upon the sea of being, without 
 knowing the course I was to take, I have finally opened the sealed 
 orders, and can steer toward the harbor for which I am bound 
 with clear ideas of my longitudes. 
 
 The question I have daily to settle is to what immediate work 
 shall I now put my ample health, my enthusiastic energy, my 
 ardor of intellectual curiosity and my leisure. Shall it be mainly 
 to production, or for a while yet mainly to acquisition? I am 
 impelled to decide for the latter. 
 
 It is when I think of the great works of literary art I have 
 never read that I feel disposed to curse the folly which diverted 
 me from this work into time-wasting externalities. In my 
 boyhood I was not a reader. I had neither time nor books nor 
 guidance. In college there was but little time and that little 
 I misemployed. 
 
 My one year at Andover was indeed well filled with real study 
 and has left a taste of sweetness which delights me still. Then 
 came the feverish dissipations of my brief clerical career, from 
 the autumn of 1859 to the autumn of 1862. Then I saw what 
 I wanted to have, leisure for Hterary exertion, but I made a sad 
 mistake in my method of procuring it. Perhaps I could have 
 done nothing better under the circumstances of broken health. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 39 
 
 Not until last September did I achieve the long-sought 
 goal. 
 
 So that at the commencement of my thirty-second year I 
 had done in general reading only what Dr. Johnson, Coleridge, 
 De Quincey, Lessing, Goethe, Schiller, Milton, Lowell, had done 
 at eighteen. If, therefore, from now until my fortieth year 
 I give my chief force to reception rather than production, 
 I shall be only so well furnished as they were ten years 
 earlier. 
 
 My general plan is first to range over everything which I ought 
 to have contact with in English literature; next to master French 
 and German, and if possible Italian and Spanish; perhaps 
 also to burnish up my Greek and read Homer, Demosthenes, 
 and the tragedians. 
 
 In this course of labor the uppermost thought is reception; 
 but necessity and inclination, the reaction of the mind itseK 
 from taking in the thoughts of others, will prompt to production. 
 
 I will write regularly for the editorial page of the Independent^ 
 and less frequently than hitherto for its first page. I wiU also 
 try to do something for Putnam, for the Atlantic, and the North 
 American. I will, however, do most in this book. I wiU think 
 with pen and hand to keep the mind from staggering on all sub- 
 jects that kindle within me, jotting down plans for productive 
 work to be done hereafter. 
 
 As to poetical composition, I have the idea that I might attain 
 to something Hke the excellence of "the well-languaged" but 
 "the prosaic" Daniel. I will write poetry chiefly as finger 
 practice for writing prose. 
 
 As a prose writer I beheve that I could have some success 
 as an essayist, a biographer, and a historian, but since creation 
 is vastly nobler than compilation, I will faithfully soHcit my mind 
 to something under the firmer shield: perhaps to the composition 
 of short stories with a view to artistic novels. I will also try my 
 
40 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 hand at dramatic composition. If, however, after sufficient 
 experiment, I discover that I have not a creative intellect, I 
 will throw myself forcefully into the sphere of compilation, 
 history, and biography. 
 
 I propose to employ this diary as a record of thoughts as they 
 occur. It will be to me for the purpose of ultimate Uterary pro- 
 duction what the portfolio of sketches is to the artist. Upon 
 these pages I mean to throw such germs and fragments as reflect 
 in some swift fashion the salient features of the intellectual 
 realm through which I travel day by day. As I read, converse, 
 walk, meditate, nay, often as in moments of rest I float, a passive 
 thing on the stream of being, I have glimpses and sometimes 
 full views of ideal landscapes, which, if caught by the pen before 
 they are forgotten, might be used in the construction of some 
 picture worthy to live. 
 
 As water filtering through miles of rock and sand, heaved 
 surfaceward by the beating heart of the mountains, and at last 
 gushing through the lips of the fountain, is sweeter, purer, more 
 effervescent than water pumped from a cistern by conscious and 
 wilful effort, so are those thoughts which come out infinitely 
 richer than those which are drawn out from the chambers of the 
 mind. Yet, such idiots are we in matters of intellectual econ- 
 omy, these latter, the unsparkling and vapid pimipings of the 
 brain, are commonly preserved in our Kterary goblets, while 
 the bubbling and Hf e-bright issues of the soul are permitted to 
 flow away and do no man good. We foolishly think that what 
 by direct effort costs nothing can be worth nothing. These 
 streams of thought come uninvited, and are allowed to go with- 
 out being asked to stay. 
 
 Jottings of thoughts seen in disconnection, thoughts which 
 group themselves into partial arrangement for story, poem, 
 essay, book; the flitting image of a character in human nature; 
 methods of study; defects in method; lines of investigation to 
 
 I 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 41 
 
 be thereafter followed up; hints which would never ripen unless 
 kept in the sun of memory; plans of life; analyses of past mistakes 
 in life; resolutions which will fortify if merely remembered, but 
 stupefy if turned into vows; whatever, in short, in the evolu- 
 tion of my existence, may add to my treasures or to my power 
 as a literary artist — will find this diary their natural de- 
 pository. 
 
 When during many very immature years, say from twelve 
 to twenty-five, I kept a diary designed as a record of my out- 
 ward life, and somewhat of my religious emotions, I wrote imi- 
 tatively, worse yet, hypocritically, myself being the principal 
 victim of the hypocrisy. I pretended to write for my own eye 
 only, yet evermore I imagined, conceited httle coxcomb that 
 I was, that another eye, the multitudinous eye of some future 
 public, was looking over my shoulder and tracing its way along 
 the line. Inevitably there was a series of spiritual posture- 
 takings for effect. I practised a double fraud, first upon my own 
 soul, and, second, in intention upon that future public which 
 was to read these things as if written by me without thinking of 
 that imaginary reader. Those books were all sent to their 
 proper place, the stove, and I am thankful that I can never write 
 anything more of that kind. 
 
 Ann Arbor, August 5, i86g. "Sweep utterly all frothiness 
 and falsehood from your heart; struggle unweariedly to acquire 
 what is possible for every God-created man, a free, open, humble 
 soul; speak not at all in anywise till you have somewhat to speak; 
 care not for the reward of your speaking but, simply, and with 
 undivided mind, for the truth of your speaking." — Carlyle. 
 
 The truth of every syllable in this sentence has percolated my 
 consciousness the past four months, especially the clause pre- 
 ceding the first semi-colon; the solemnity of that thought has 
 been so impressed upon my soul as almost to sicken me. 
 
42 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Indeed, intellectual regeneration is profoundly blended with 
 the moral one; cannot proceed far without it. The achievement 
 is gradual, subtle, beset with terrific dangers, on all sides 
 difficult. 
 
 Ann Arbor, October 14, i86g. I have several times noticed that 
 whenever my mind has been free to move whither it would, not 
 deflected from its voluntary line of motion by xmfavorable cir- 
 cmnstances, nor overpowered by the influence of some strong 
 book, it has gravitated toward the study of the law, and toward 
 a life of practical endeavor for the good of human society. Never 
 shall I accomphsh any great thing without a complete conse- 
 cration of my total nature to it. This problem of my life work, 
 though my Hfe is probably half gone, is yet unsolved. The 
 question which for many years I have continually put to myself 
 is this: Am I to be a hterary artist, or am I to be a hterary man 
 applying his art to affairs? My own imcertainty on this subject 
 sometimes amomits to anguish. I shudder lest when I emerge 
 from the river of Death, and stand stark and dripping upon its 
 farther side, I should have to think that my Hfe here had been 
 thrown away, or not made the most of. Then, too, I have great 
 present pride in present success. I desire to fasten upon that 
 path of labor for which I am best suited. It would be mortif3dng 
 to spend myself in a career in which my abihty, whatever it be, 
 cannot excel. 
 
 This is the melancholy wave which ever and ever rolls up on 
 the shore, as I place before me the life of a pure literary artist — 
 a Matthew Arnold, a James Russell Lowell, a Howells, a Heine. 
 I am not a poet; I have not the dreaminess, the contentment with 
 passive sentient life, the idealism of the artist. While my powers 
 of expression with the pen are perhaps, yes, certainly — for I 
 will not befuddle my words by the dishonesty of sham, or self- 
 depreciation — superior to the average, they are not, I believe 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 43 
 
 they never can be, equal to the highest, and is it worth while in 
 literary art to be second rate? 
 
 I might be a minor poet, I think; a minor novelist, a minor 
 dramatist. The great masterpieces of creative Uterature I 
 can never, never approach.! 
 
 On the other hand, when I think of the sphere of an American 
 scholar and writer giving himself up, with pure heart, to the service 
 of society, to the profound and conscientious study of the vast 
 questions which now brood over our life — social and political 
 — cultivating wisdom that his countrymen and the future may 
 have the benefit of it; and using his powers of style both with 
 tongue and pen to help American civiUzation to be a success; 
 then I have before me a field of work which I do feel qualified to 
 take the highest rank in. 
 
 I am conscious of an aptitude for investigating subjects of real 
 life, and for deciding upon them. Above all other considera- 
 tions, I feel that into this sphere I can carry the whole force of 
 my moral nature — and this I cannot imagine myseK as carrying 
 into the sphere of art. I never could, I never can, do my best, 
 unless backed up and energized by my moral activities. 
 
 So that, viewed purely as a question of individual success, the 
 result appears to me to be this: As an artist I should be no 
 higher than second rate, and might not be so high; as a Hterary 
 and philosophical servant of American society,! might be firstrate. 
 
 I should be untrue to my own soul, also, if I did not draw 
 into this view some consideration of duty to others. This is 
 with me no cant. My deepest nature vibrates to an appeal 
 based on the welfare of mankind, especially of America. The 
 difficulties of our civiHzation thicken upon us. Infinite conse- 
 quences hang upon the experiment we are engaged in. There 
 are very few pubHc men who seem consecrated, absolutely honest, 
 pure minded, unselfish. In this plenitude of terrific perils to 
 American society, in this dearth of men supremely dedicated 
 
44 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 to the religious work of encountering those perils, can I sit serene 
 in my study, toying with tales, romances, epigrams, sonnets, 
 satires, magazine articles? If a person has the highest gift for 
 these things, with the accompanying inward call to them, he 
 may honestly give himself to them. 
 
 Am I conscious of anything more than moderate gifts for them? 
 Am I conscious of any inward call to them? Before God, I 
 must say. No. 
 
 I am not about to write down here any resolve, far less anything 
 so awful as a vow! Alas! I have myself experienced the folly 
 and the futihty of steering myself by vows. My whole nature 
 must rise slowly, intelligently, to the level of a noble decision; 
 I can no more Uft my moral and mental being to a higher level 
 by a single act of will than I can lift my body from the floor by 
 tugging at my bootstraps. 
 
 I have work enough to employ me until next June. My studies 
 in rhetoric, especially in EngUsh literature, the lectures upon 
 each, which I must write, as well as much heavy work for the 
 papers (that I may get out of debt), will fully employ me until 
 the end of this college year. 
 
 Should I, however, at that time still be moving altogether 
 in the direction which this morning's memorandum indicates, 
 it may then be wise for me to give the leisure of the succeeding 
 two years to the study of the law. j,t 'I 
 
 It does not appear to me likely that I should ever wish to 
 practise law, but the knowledge of it is a great treasure in itself, 
 and of inestimable value to a pubHcist; while the intellectual 
 discipline gained in acquiring it would be, to n y mind especially, 
 of the very greatest benefit. 
 
 After that I should like to spend from two to four years in 
 France, Germany, and Italy, for the acquisition of their lan- 
 guages and the investigation of poHtical economy and social 
 science, and for general literary culture. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 45 
 
 On my return home I should feel pretty well equipped for 
 gomg to work in the service of American society. 
 
 Should I name any man whom I should look to as in the main 
 features my model, it would be Edmund Burke. I would have 
 his learning, his philosophical habit of mental action, his per- 
 sonal purity and goodness, his dignity of character, his catholic 
 and ardent literary tastes, his passion for style. I would follow 
 him — even though afar off. 
 
 ii 
 
 •:> 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 1870 — 1871 
 
 [Early in the year 1870 two invitations to enter journalism 
 were offered: the first, to become editor of the College courant, 
 published at New Haven, did not require much effort to decline, 
 but the second invitation, to become "right-hand man" to Mr. 
 Bowen, who had recently bought the Brooklyn unions my 
 father wrote, "nearly bends my innermost obstinacy to stay 
 and study some years longer at Ann Arbor."] 
 
 LETTER FROM THEODORE TILTON TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Brooklyn, January i, 18^0 
 My DEAR Moses: 
 
 I write you a hurried letter late to-night. Mr. Bowen has 
 purchased the Brooklyn union and means to make it as fine a 
 daily newspaper as wealth, energy, ability, and public spirit can 
 produce in the third city of the RepubHc. 
 
 Of course, he means to manage and control it himself, but he 
 has asked me to name his right-hand man and I have named 
 Moses Coit Tyler. My statement of the case which I now make 
 is by Mr. Bowen's authority. You will receive, if you choose to 
 accept the offer, a salary of $4,000 for the first year, $4,500 for 
 the second, and $5,000 for the third. His control begins with 
 February i. He wants his men on the spot by that time. I 
 want you to pull up all stakes at Ann Arbor and come at once 
 to Brooklyn. It will be the opening of a golden age to your 
 future fortunes. Telegraph to Mr. Bowen on receipt of this 
 note your cordial and hearty yes. Then take the train and come 
 for a day or two, at his expense, to his house, to arrange all the 
 details. I am your best friend and I tell you that this is the 
 
 46 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 47 
 
 opportunity for which you have long been waiting. Don't 
 neglect it. He gives you a cordial invitation to come even 
 though you shall decline this invitation, and even though you 
 can stay here only twenty-four hours. I am off to-morrow for 
 the West for six weeks. My whole heart is set on your coming. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Theodore Tilton. 
 
 Ann Arbor J January 8, i8yo. I have just sent a telegram 
 and a letter to Mr. Bowen, the former declining his invitation, 
 and the latter giving my reasons. This has been the most se- 
 ductive temptation to leave Ann Arbor and my present mode of 
 life that has been made to me. The immediate and the perma- 
 nent attractions of the position are very great. I could have 
 made my way into the heart of metropolitan journahsm, could 
 have made money and reputation, could have gained political 
 influence and position, and could have had innxmaerable social 
 and personal advantages from residence in New York. 
 
 On the other hand, I have not completed those various studies 
 which I desire to pursue, and if I had gone to Brooklyn I never 
 could have completed them. Finally, if I were ready to leave 
 my studious retirement and plunge into the affairs of the world, 
 do 1 want to be a journalist? I would rather be a lawyer. 
 
 Here remaining in seclusion for five years longer I can steadily 
 gain a quiet reputation and, better still, I can deepen and widen 
 my knowledge, my mastery of principles, and my habits of 
 thinking; and if it be my destiny to be a man of affairs, I shall 
 enter upon such a career more coolly, with greater circumspec- 
 tion and certainty as to the way I want to go. Had I gone to 
 Brooklyn it would have been a premature introduction to the 
 business of the world. I have nearly completed a certain stage 
 of literary studies; the next stage will be the study of the law, 
 of poHtical economy, and American history. Upon that stage 
 of work I expect to enter soon. 
 
48 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Meantime, I feel greater respect for myself that I have had 
 the poise of soul and the inflexibility of purpose to meet this 
 tremendous onset of Theodore's; and for the sake of the ideal 
 formed in my sold to reject so flattering and captivating a sub- 
 stitute. 
 
 Ann Arbor, January 20. I am about to open the first volume 
 of Kent's Commentaries. I thus begin under most favorable 
 auspices the realization of a long-cherished desire, the regular 
 study of the law. 
 
 Ann Arbor, May 2j, 1870. Week before last I had a book 
 notice in the Independent, entitled Literary labors of Charles 
 Sumner. To-day the editor sends me the following note: 
 
 Washington, Senate Chamber, i8th May, 1870 
 Dear Mr. Tilton : 
 
 The article in the Independent on my volumes is beyond my 
 deserts — so I say and cannot doubt — but it has touched me 
 much, and more than anything latterly made me feel that I 
 have not Uved in vain. I have tried without success to imagine 
 whose partial pen has done this. May I ask you to send me 
 three or four copies? 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 Charles Sumner. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Ann Arbor, 25 May, i8yo 
 Dear Jack: 
 
 Theodore Tilton must have already told the illustrious Charles 
 who "has done this," for this day's mail brought me a flood of 
 speeches franked by him. Jennie is now absolutely confident 
 that, having won the favor of the chairman of the Senate Com- 
 mittee on Foreign Affairs, I am about to have a fat consulship 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 49 
 
 in Europe, and by to-morrow her demands will have risen to 
 the position of Minister to France. . . . 
 
 Affectionately, Mose. 
 
 [In his journal for December of this year my father writes 
 from New York and Washington, where he had gone for a few 
 weeks to furnish a weekly letter to the Brooklyn union and the 
 Independent:] 
 
 New York, Decemher 15, 1870. This A. m. I went to the 
 Independent office, where I saw, on the stairway, Joel Benton, 
 and then in the office, OHver Johnson and Doctor Eggleston, and 
 subsequently Theodore Tilton. The latter seemed restless and 
 troubled, the cause of which I learned confidentially. Great 
 changes are coming. When Theodore went away he kissed me 
 tenderly on the forehead. Altogether my impression was rather 
 a melancholy one concerning T.'s present state. The star of 
 his life is perhaps turning upon him its dark side. 
 
 New York, December 16, i8yo. Heard more about T. T. 
 which I must not write here, hinting at his domestic troubles. 
 T. T. does not now speak to H. W. Beecher. 
 
 New York, December 17, i8'/o. This morning went to 
 Independent office and saw the folks — Mary Clemmer Ames, 
 Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson, and Mr. Briggs, a friend of Lowell, 
 to whom Lowell dedicated his poems, and who knew intimately 
 Edgar Allan Poe. Briggs said Poe had no human feeling — no 
 heart, although after writing anything he could work himself 
 up to shedding tears over it. He says Lowell and George 
 William Curtis are the two most reliable literary men he knows. 
 They can be absolutely depended upon to write what they say 
 they will, and at the time promised. With regard to Lowell, 
 this differs from reports that I have had of him. 
 
50 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Washington, December 21, i8yo. Reached Washington and 
 saw the great light blazing in the dome of the Capitol and the 
 flag floating on its north end. So I learned that the Senate was 
 having a night session, and this was luck. Getting into a street 
 car, I saw therein the face of Schuyler Colfax, whom I at once 
 recognized, though I had never seen him before. Entered my- 
 self at Ebbitt House, got washed and filled, and hurried away 
 to the Senate. Entering the gallery, found the Senate had not 
 yet assembled, but saw Sumner sitting in leisurely talk with 
 another senator. Went below, intending to speak to him, but 
 could get no page within signal to take my card. Entered the 
 right cloak-room, where was one senator smoking, and at the 
 other end of the room a colored man was walking about smoking. 
 Thinking him an attendant, I felt at liberty to ask him how I 
 was to get my card to Mr. Sumner, with a tone perhaps intimating 
 my hope that he would perhaps consent to carry it. In very 
 kind tones he said, " It is usual to send a page with one's card." 
 
 M. C. T.: "Has Mr. Sumner been speaking to-day?" 
 
 Colored Gentleman: " Oh yes, he has made a long speech and 
 has excited great opposition. There is to be a great debate 
 to-night." 
 
 M. C. T: ''I find it hard to get the attention of these pages." 
 
 Colored Gentleman: "Mr. Sumner does not usually leave 
 his seat after the Senate has opened, but if you can get your 
 card to him now he will doubtless come." 
 
 By and by, after the Senate opened, a friend pointed out the 
 various senators and I saw in the seat of Revels my colored friend 
 of the cloak-room. I succeeded in getting my card to Charles 
 Sumner, who instantly came to me very cordially, told me 
 about his speech of the morning, and said he was to be abused 
 this evening. 
 
 I heard a great debate, and did not get back to the hotel till 
 nearly one o'clock. My impressions will go into my letters 
 to the Christian union and Independent. 
 
 i 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 51 
 
 Saw Mr. and Mrs. Judd at the debate, also Senators Howe 
 and Nye. There was a time when I should have taken my first 
 look of the American Senate with awe and deep respect. I 
 was surprised at the total absence of these emotions to-night. 
 It seemed to me to be a crowd of strong men, indeed, but, ex- 
 cepting Sumner, not great men. 
 
 Washington, December 22, i8yo. Went to the Capitol, going 
 below and sending my card in to Mr. Judd. I was invited 
 to take a seat with him and Burchard from Illinois. B. said 
 Garfield had no great influence, ''he was too scholarly." 
 Presently Mr. Judd was called out to see a lady and he wanted 
 
 me to go with him. It was Mrs. , of Kalamazoo, 
 
 Michigan, who is a lecturer against woman's suffrage and came 
 with petitions to that effect. After getting through her busi- 
 ness with Judd, she turned to me and said, "Of course you 
 stand right as to woman suffrage?" "Of course, I do, I am in 
 favor of it." 
 
 "Oh, no, do not say so; you are too good-looking a man to 
 be in favor of such a thing; don't be in favor of it," and so on, 
 ad nauseam. 
 
 Judd talked very freely about the politicians. He said 
 " If Lincoln had Hved he would have tried charity to the rebels 
 till all his radical friends were outraged and until he discovered 
 the real animus of the rebels; then he would have tried severity 
 and would have become the most popular man in the nation 
 and would have been re-elected for a third term. Grant isn't 
 much of a man; he doesn't know anything; he hasn't any 
 brains; he's a good fighter, and that's all; he has made blunders 
 from the beginning of his presidency; his gifts, favoritism, bad 
 appointments, trying to get on in a semi-military way, sHghting 
 the poHticians, etc. He's a very small man, indeed; hasn't 
 any political ideas except what are stuffed into him. If there 
 
52 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 was any other man in our party available, Grant would be 
 dropped, but there's the trouble." 
 
 Between five and six had a chat with Mrs. Judd. She's a 
 bright and charming woman. She says Grant never starts a 
 conversation, but when started often says a neat thing. Last 
 year there was an excursion down the Potomac. He was on 
 board; his cabinet and a quorum of both houses. Mrs. Judd 
 sat near him, and said: "Mr. President, it would be a bad thing 
 to have a great accident happen to this party. Pretty nearly 
 the whole government would be destroyed." "Yes, Mrs. Judd, 
 but you observe the Vice-President has very prudently stayed 
 at home." 
 
 There is a bitter fight now going on between Grant and Sumner. 
 Here is one of Grant's sarcasms on Sumner: A statement was 
 referred to in conversation, and it was said Sumner ought to 
 know it. Some one said he wouldn't believe it. The first 
 speaker said, "Well, if he wouldn't believe that, he wouldn't 
 believe the Bible." Grant retorted, "Of course he wouldn't 
 believe the Bible, unless he wrote it himself." 
 
 Washington, December 26, i8yo. While walking in G street, 
 I saw Vice-President Colfax coming. Resolved to charge upon 
 him. Saluted him. He replied rather formally. I offered 
 him Theodore Tilton's letter, which he glanced at and said: 
 "Ah, this is Moses Coit Tyler. Why, you did not need to bring 
 a letter to me. I know you very well. I'm most glad to see 
 you. Now, come right home and dine with me." Of course, 
 though I had just dined, I went. 
 
 He avows himself a decided Grant man, takes strong ground 
 against Sumner, and declares Grant to be the man to win with 
 in 1872. He argues stoutly against all objections to Grant. 
 Says Grant and Schurz may be reconciled, but doesn't see how 
 Grant and Sumner can be; says Grant is not violent against 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 53 
 
 Sumner and doesn't want Sumner removed from the Committee 
 on Foreign Affairs. Grant feels the attacks on him acutely, 
 but will not reply to them. 
 
 On the whole I can understand the popularity of Schuyler Col- 
 fax. His manner would be to the average person very captivating. 
 
 On returning to the hotel I found Charles Sumner's card 
 for me, on which was written this: "I hope you will let me see 
 you soon. Can you come Monday evening?" 
 
 His house I found to be the ideal abode of the ideal American 
 senator. After the company had gone we sat together about 
 an hour, talking about literary matters. Fearing that I was 
 over-staying, I rose to go. Mr. Sumner invited me not to hasten, 
 and wanted to know what I was doing. I told him: 
 
 "Moving about Washington and talking with people." 
 
 S.: "Ah, then you can instruct me." 
 
 T. : " Oh, no, Mr. Sumner ; you know all that is going on." 
 
 S.: "No, really I do not. I scarcely go out at all and do not 
 see people who can tell me such things. What are people talk- 
 ing of?" 
 
 T.: "Why, you must know. They are talking of Senator 
 Sumner." Upon this he began to talk for half an hour about the 
 trouble between himself and Grant. It was noble. I wish I 
 could repeat it word for word. His voice was low, his utterance 
 deliberate and sweet, his language choice and strong, and what 
 he said was both forcible and high minded. 
 
 Tuesday y December 2ph. To-day I called at Senator Schurz's 
 house with a letter of introduction. I was ushered into the study 
 and was received cordially. He talked freely about the political 
 troubles. As to his course in the Senate, he said: "I have taken 
 my poHtical life in my hand. I have resolved to act as if I 
 were to end my career with this term in the Senate; be inde- 
 pendent, true to my real convictions, and not hesitate to say and 
 
54 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 do what I think to be right on account of any regard for a re- 
 election. By that fortunate clause of the Constitution which 
 takes from me aspirations after the presidency I am saved from 
 a great temptation; and I am going to have the luxury of doing 
 what I think to be right." This was said with a beautiful sim- 
 plicity and sweetness of tone. He carried my heart. I think 
 him quite sincere. 
 
 Washington, December 30, i8yo. Spent two hours this morning 
 in Charles Sumner's study. He was dressed in morning gown 
 and slippers, and looked very senatorial. I could have wor- 
 shipped him. He is majestic. He greeted me very cordially. He 
 began by speaking of the letters he had received from Longfel- 
 low, Gerrit Smith, and Garrison, parts of which he read to me. 
 He also read part of a long letter from Gideon Welles, giving 
 a terrible analysis of Grant. Welles thinks Grant a very dan- 
 gerous man, ambitious to be made President for life, reckless 
 as to our principles of government, and even ignorant of them, 
 willingly so. Is Welles mad, or only dyspeptic, malignant, and 
 sour? He denied to Grant any greatness. Charles Sumner 
 said Grant "is curiously and subtly selfish," and that "there 
 never had been such nepotism since the Borgian popes." 
 
 When I tried to go he called me back to show me some of 
 the engravings about the rooms, referring to his special theme 
 of treaties. He also had photographs of Brougham, Bright, and 
 Gladstone. The talk turned on Brougham. I criticised him 
 as a mere rhetorician and actor, a liar and a dupe of flattery. 
 Sumner partly admitted it and said that it was a misfortune to 
 him that he ever met B., the meeting so lowered him in his 
 opinion; that B. was the grossest and most profane man in con- 
 versation that he ever knew. 
 
 "Mr. Senator, that is a good deal for you to say when you 
 reflect who is your nearest neighbor in the Senate." 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 55 
 
 Charles Sumner: "Why, do you mean Nye?" 
 
 M. C. T.: "Certainly. He is the most obscene and profane 
 talker I ever met." 
 
 Charles Sumner: "Well, I have been told something of that. 
 But I never heard him talk so. He never swears or deals in 
 gross language in conversation with me." 
 
 That I thought the greatest imaginable testimony to the 
 greatness and purity of Charles Sumner's personal presence in 
 the Senate. 
 
 Washington, December ji, 18^0. A note from Mr. Colfax 
 inviting me to go to church and lunch with him to-morrow. 
 
 Washington, January i, i8yi. By invitation I went to the 
 Vice-President's this morning at 10.30. At just 10.40 his 
 carriage drove up, two horses and a black liveried driver. Mrs. 
 Colfax and I sat on the back seat; the Vice-President, insisting, 
 against my protestations, on using the small movable seat which 
 faced us. "The only place where I insist on having my own 
 way is in my own carriage. There I will sit where I please." 
 
 Both before leaving the house and in his carriage the V.-P. 
 slided into politics easily. 
 
 "This carriage was a present to me from Congressman Hooper. 
 I am a poor man and never could have afforded such a thing. 
 Mr. Hooper said that when I should be elected Vice-President 
 he should give me a carriage. I forgot all about it. One day, 
 after my inauguration, he came to me in the Capitol and said: 
 'Colfax, ride with me.' We came together to my house. He 
 came in and chatted awhile with Mrs. Colfax and then told 
 her to come to the window, as he had something to show, her. 
 'There, J^^rs. Colfax, that is your carriage out there. I want 
 you to tell your husband to send round to my stable for it.' 
 Well, that's the way a poor man came to own a carriage. And 
 now I'll tell you about those horses. After I got my carriage 
 
56 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 I needed something to draw it, and one day Mr. , the super- 
 intendent of the Adams Express Company, said he was buying 
 horses every day and could pick me out a good span cheaper 
 than I could get them. I told him to go ahead. ' What is the 
 limit?' said he. 'Oh, $400 or $500.' 'Very well.' In a few days 
 
 these horses came around. I handed Mr. my check 
 
 for the amount he told me they cost. He took the check, and 
 said he would send me the receipt. The next day came an 
 envelope with what I supposed to be a receipt. On opening 
 it I found my check returned to me with his compliments. And 
 that is the way I came to be the proprietor of this equipage." 
 On previous occasions Mr. Colfax has talked in the same frank 
 way about his poverty. He told me he could not live on the 
 salary of the Vice-President; the first time in his life that an 
 office had not supported him. I asked him about some Chinese 
 vases in his dining-room. " I know nothing about them. They 
 belong with the furniture to this house. I take it furnished and 
 pay $13,000 a year for it." I think Colfax is anxious that the 
 people should continue to think him one of them. Then, allud- 
 ing to an article of mine, the Vice-President said: "You say 
 that my cheerfulness as a public man you don't understand. 
 Now, I'll explain it to you. I'll tell you the whole secret. In 
 the first place, a man must be happy in his home. That is what 
 I am. In the presence of this lady here I mustn't speak my 
 whole mind on that point; it might embarrass her. But in my 
 home life, thanks to a kind Providence, I have been most fortu- 
 nate. In the next place, a man must keep out of quarrels. 
 You see how here in Washington public men are jealous of each 
 other, talking hard things of each other, and getting into all 
 sorts of rows and wrangles. Well, now I never have anything 
 of that. I have just one rule: If anybody wants to have a 
 quarrel with me, he must do it all himself. I won't help him. 
 I am on good terms with men of all parties. I never let political 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 57 
 
 differences disturb personal relations. Furthermore, I try to 
 look on the bright side of things; to hope for the best; to be- 
 Heve that the right will come out ahead. I've seen the country 
 in dark days, but I wouldn't despair. I know that things are 
 in a bad way now. They do trouble me. Yet I resolve not to 
 sink into the dumps about it." 
 
 Here we approached the church — the Metropolitan Metho- 
 dist. There was already a crowd. Colfax was received on all 
 hands with smiles and politeness and real affection. The 
 aisles were filling, but the usher kept a passage open from the 
 door to the President's pew, which was just in front of the Vice- 
 President's. 
 
 Just as the second hymn was given out, the President came 
 quietly in with his youngest son, Jesse, a boy of about eleven. 
 This was my first sight of General Grant. He stood at the pew 
 door waiting for the boy to come up. Grant's air was as calm 
 and firm as has been represented. As he stood, his eyes were 
 thrown in a peculiarly fixed way toward the people beyond the 
 farther end of his pew. On sitting he bowed pleasantly to the 
 Vice-President, paying a passing glance to Mrs. Colfax and my- 
 self. His head is like a big bullet; his face had a look of illimita- 
 ble determination and quiet strength; also quite plebeian, as 
 did his boy's. There was the mark of eye-glasses on his nose; 
 and his eyes looked as if he had slept hard after being up late. 
 Yet there was health in his face, as if he could stand anything 
 without much wear and tear. He looked like a natural stoic, 
 military and political. During the sermon he did not appear 
 to pay much attention, any more than to keep the run of the 
 thing and be sure that Doctor Newman talked no heresy. His 
 eye moved quickly when it moved at all, and then rested heavily 
 upon whatever object it settled on. During the latter part, 
 some one fainted in the back of the church and there was a 
 momentary noise. Grant started quickly and turned quite 
 
58 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 around, with a startled look, as if personally suspicious of danger, 
 and yet with an expression that could quell danger. After 
 the benediction the Vice-President presented me to him at the 
 pew door. He shook hands and smiled pleasantly, but by no 
 means gushed. Neither did I. The crowd was so great that 
 we moved out very slowly. Colfax was saluting people on both 
 sides; Grant scarcely any one. On the church step an elderly 
 man pushed through the crowd to Grant and offered his hand, 
 giving his name as the "Rev. So and So," and commenced a 
 rather slow speech of admiration to the President, who looked 
 stolid but bored. I helped Mrs. Colfax to the carriage. I should 
 have said that before the benediction Colfax whispered to me, 
 after whispering with the President, and said: "We'll let Mrs. 
 Colfax ride home; you and I will walk home with the Presi- 
 dent." I liked this, yet whispered to Mrs. Colfax that her 
 husband was going to make me do something in very bad 
 taste. 
 
 Just as the carriage door was closing, Grant stepped up and 
 said, "Let Jesse get in." 
 
 So Grant, Colfax, and Tyler started together toward Pennsyl- 
 vania avenue. Within two or three rods of the church, just 
 opposite a livery stable. Grant stopped, pulled out a cigar case, 
 offered a cigar to Colfax and to me, took one himself, and as 
 he did so, he said with a twinkle: 
 
 "I've got so used to this sort of thing that I can't wait for my 
 smoke till I get home from church." Then to Colfax: 
 
 "Colfax, I furnish the cigars, and you've got to furnish the 
 light." 
 
 "All right," said Colfax, producing matches and stepping 
 into the stable out of the wind. In a moment he returned with 
 his cigar lighted. Grant took it and lighted his, handing it 
 back to Colfax. I took it and lighted mine and returned Col- 
 fax's. Then on we went. Colfax showed great tact in getting 
 
 II 
 
jMOSES COIT TYLER 59 
 
 me into the ring of it. He was on the President's left, I on his 
 right. Colfax said, looking across to me: 
 
 "Professor, how many students have you at Michigan Uni- 
 versity?" 
 
 T.: " Something more than a thousand. We have the largest 
 nimiber of any university in the country; about twenty larger, 
 I think, than Harvard." 
 
 Pres.: "No, I think they have about thirteen hundred at 
 Harvard. One of my sons is there. I see their register." 
 
 T.: "Ah, then I was mistaken about our being the largest 
 university." 
 
 Pres. : " Well, I think they make out that number by counting 
 in the students who are there studying anything: students 
 in medicine and law and divinity. But those in the four classes 
 — freshmen (here he tried to think of the names of the other 
 classes, but without success) — well, those in the regular col- 
 lege — freshmen — and well, those in the (hesitatingly) four 
 classes make only about seven hundred." 
 
 T.: "That, also, is a larger number than we have in our four 
 classes of undergraduates. The number I just gave includes 
 all the professional students as well as those still in the college. 
 The university is composed of all these sorts of students." 
 
 Colfax: "Yes, that is what makes up a university. Well, 
 Professor, I think you have no charge for tuition to students 
 living in Michigan." 
 
 T.: "None to them or to others, either. There is a small 
 matriculation fee, and an annual charge of $10 to the residents 
 in Michigan and $20 to residents of other states. Further than 
 that there's no charge. And, Mr. President, I should like to 
 say that when your youngest gets old enough to go to college, 
 would it not be fair for you to consider the claims of the great 
 university of the West, which many people think to be in fact 
 the most genuine American university in the country?" 
 
6o MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Pres.: "Well, I have one son at West Point, and another at 
 Harvard. But Jesse, my youngest, thinks he would like to go to 
 West Point or Annapolis, and if I have influence enough, per- 
 haps I can get him in at one of those schools. As he will be old 
 enough to go to Annapolis before my term expires, perhaps I 
 may have influence enough to get him in there." This was 
 said in rather a grimly playful way. 
 
 T.: "Well, Mr. President, if you find that your influence 
 is not great enough to get him into West Point or Annapolis, 
 I hope you will try at Ann Arbor. I think you can get him in 
 there." 
 
 Up to this point I listened intently to the President's tones 
 of voice, to his pronunciation, choice of language, etc. There 
 was a certain western flatness in his pronunciation, and his 
 tones were slightly provincial. I have given almost verbatim 
 his words, correcting an occasional slight grammatical slip. 
 His whole manner was quite unassuming and modest. Yet he 
 had a way of bringing out what he had to say in a pat, terse, 
 decided way. His talk would not have suggested greatness, 
 neither did it belie it. 
 
 Colfax now changed the subject. 
 
 V.-P.: "Oh, General, did you see that account of the inter- 
 view with Clark Miller?" 
 
 Pres.: "Yes, I saw it." 
 
 V.-P. : " Well, how was it about the surrender of Lee? Is the 
 common account of it, the giving up of the sword, etc., correct?" 
 
 Pres.: "Lee's surrender to me was made in a house. The 
 only foundation for the apple-tree story is this: The day be- 
 fore the surrender General Babcock carried to Lee my note 
 suggesting the putting an end to needless bloodshed, as further 
 resistance, he must see, was vain. Babcock found Lee sitting 
 under an old apple tree, and General Babcock said he looked 
 for all the world just as^if he ought to be strung |up to one of 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 6i 
 
 its branches. Lee's answer to me was that he would be happy 
 to meet me to arrange terms of peace between the two govern- 
 ments. Of course, I could pay no attention to such a message. 
 But by the next day things had so changed that Lee saw things 
 in the same light that I did. It was then that I met him and 
 arranged terms of surrender. It was all done inside of a house." 
 
 V.-P. : " Well, General, how did Lee behave? " 
 
 Pres. : " He behaved well, but I felt very much embarrassed." 
 
 M. C. T.: "Why, Mr. President, should you have felt em- 
 barrassed? I can imagine you must have had great emotion, 
 but I cannot see why you should have felt embarrassment." 
 
 Pres.: "There wasn't any reason for it, but I did feel em- 
 barrassed. Lee behaved very well. He was dignified, quiet, 
 and gentlemanly. He seemed very much downcast. If he 
 hadn't behaved so well I should not have felt embarrassed. 
 Now, when Pemberton surrendered to me at Vicksburg I didn't 
 feel embarrassed a bit." 
 
 V.-P.: "Why not. General?" 
 
 Pres.: "Oh, he took on so. He acted as if I might have 
 surrendered to him." 
 
 M. C. T.: "I should like to ask, Mr. President, if you did 
 not feel some relief at the death of Lee? Did you not regard 
 him as a dangerous man in the country?" 
 
 Pres.: "Only negatively so — only because he was idolized 
 by the whole South. Then before his death I had heard of 
 his saying some very bitter things, especially about getting back 
 the Arlington estate." 
 
 V.-P.: "Were you approached by any of the family about 
 the recovery of the Arlington place?" 
 
 Pres.: "No, not directly. But one day I received word that 
 Mrs. Lee's lawyer was waiting to see me on the subject; and I 
 sent him word that I couldn't see him or anybody else on that 
 subject. I heard nothing more about it until McCreery made 
 
62 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 his speech in the Senate and brought on the debate, which you 
 heard (turning to me). Of all the Southern generals, I had 
 most respect for Gen. Joe Johnston. I knew him in the 
 army long before the war. He always comes to see me when he 
 passes through town, in order to show that he wants to be on 
 good terms with — Northern people. He always seems to me 
 like a manly, honest person." (These words were themselves 
 spoken in a manly, honest way, and as I looked at the man who 
 uttered them with so sincere and modest a tone I could not 
 help feeling that they very well described him. All the bad 
 stories I had lately heard of Grant seemed confuted.) 
 
 Colfax then suggested other topics of conversation. General 
 Grant's projected trip to California next April; a visit to Alaska; 
 and some talk about coal mines and other things on the Pacific 
 railway. 
 
 As we got to the east gate of the White House we turned 
 in to escort the President to his door. ''We are going with you 
 quite to the door, Mr. President, so as to make sure that you 
 don't get assassinated." 
 
 As we came up the steps: 
 
 Pres.: "Won't you come in and lunch with me, gentle- 
 men?" 
 
 V.-P.: "No, thank you. Mr. Tyler is going home to lunch 
 with me." 
 
 Just as he passed into his door, which was swung open for 
 him, without looking around, he said, "Good morning, gentle- 
 men," to which we of course replied. 
 
 The Vice-President's house is but a short distance off, and on 
 our way I heartily thanked him for his thoughtful kindness 
 in enabling me to see the President and hear him talk in so 
 informal a way. 
 
 At luncheon nothing remarkable was said except that in reply 
 to a question of mine, "Speaking of your joke about seeing 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 63 
 
 the President to the door, Mr. Colfax, do you think it ever 
 passes through his head that he is liable to assassination?" 
 
 v.- P.: "Not a bit of it. At least, so I think. He never 
 shows it. He has been twice threatened with assassination, 
 too, and by the same man, a crazy man who is now in the asy- 
 limi. The first time, the man followed the President closely 
 and cursed him and threatened to shoot him, but the President 
 walked on quietly, took no notice of him, and finally turned a 
 comer and told a poHceman to prevent that man from following 
 him any farther. Not many days after he was set upon again 
 by the same man in the Capitol grounds, and seeing Judge K. 
 he quietly told him what the fellow was saying; and Judge K. 
 had him arrested as a lunatic, and he was soon put into the 
 asylum." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 1871 — 1872 
 
 Ann Arbor, March 25, iSyi. What is most needed in America 
 at present is disinterested political criticism, as courageous 
 as that of Wendell Phillips, as temperate as that of John Stuart 
 Mill, as skilfully fitted to be listened to as that of John 
 Bright. 
 
 Our partisan politicians, however acute and eloquent, are 
 slaves. They carry on their necks the yoke. They dare not 
 think for themselves and speak plainly what they think. Charles 
 Sumner and Carl Schurz are the two exceptions. There is 
 something wholly vulgar in such a career. He who would serve 
 American society now must beware of admitting into his soul 
 the lust of office. That passion eats away every noble quality, 
 especially intellectual courage. He must reflect that America 
 can furnish him with a political career without his ever being 
 in office. Neither Greeley, nor Phillips, nor Beecher, nor 
 Gerrit Smith has needed office in order to gain the ear of the 
 people, and to shape the destinies of the state. A man may 
 work with party; he must not work under it. 
 
 I have lately fancied myself approaching a great undertaking 
 which may prove to be the literary occupation of my life. My 
 mind is still wandering about the plan, surveying it on all sides, 
 perhaps coquetting with it, yet almost inclined to take it for 
 better, for worse. It is to write the history of the United States, 
 beginning with the administration of the first President. 
 
 To prepare the first volume would require a preparation of at 
 
 64 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 65 
 
 least five years. I doubt whether I can make any better use of 
 myself. 
 
 Unless I have entirely mistaken the symptoms of a thorough 
 and permanent determination of my whole nature, I have at 
 last really found my work. Since I reached this resolution to 
 make the study and exposition of American history my chief 
 literary occupation I have experienced the truth of Carlyle's 
 words, "Blessed is he who has found his work!" By all that 
 is valuable in integrity, I mean to be faithful to this work. 
 
 The reading of books is not an end; only a means to an end. 
 The end which it is designed to promote is to deposit knowledge 
 in the mind of the reader, to strengthen his intellectual powers 
 by exercise, to start him upon trains of thinking. 
 
 My mistake from earliest life has been the habit of dealing 
 with books as if getting through them was the supreme thing. 
 In consequence I have read too fast, have reviewed my reading 
 too slightly and too infrequently, have taken too little pains 
 to fasten to my soul the best fruits of my studies, and have 
 discouraged the promptings which reading has given to independ- 
 ent thought. I think I should get much more good out of books 
 if, in addition to a reform in these particulars, I should read the 
 best books twice over. 
 
 I must try to impress upon myself, and act upon it, that the 
 great value of a book is not what it tells but what it suggests; 
 that the harvest of reading is not determined by the amount 
 of seed one scatters over the mental soil, but by the amount which 
 catches, takes root, grows, and ripens. 
 
 Be less ambitious to get over many pages. Speed in reading 
 is a worthless consideration. Widen your range of knowledge, 
 stretch the boundaries of your thought; it matters not whether 
 in doing that you get over a chapter or only a sentence. Be 
 more hospitable to new ideas that flit about the head while 
 reading. Lay the book down, throw the windows open, and take 
 
66 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 the strangers in. Try to feel that time spent in working my own 
 mind is better spent than time given to picking up the spoils 
 wrought by the working of other minds. I should like to get 
 Emerson's habit of deferring aU books to his own diary, and of 
 making all studies secondary to the study of his own thoughts. 
 In my own library, with my own thoughts, I have been in a hurry 
 — goaded by a gadfly — not well poised, anxious to make up 
 for lost time. I must try to appease myself by remembering 
 that I have before me the unlimited leisure of immortality. 
 Surely with that I can be calm. Also, be content with doing 
 something well. If I can avoid hereafter all hack-work, it will 
 be for my soul's good. Nothing desecrates my mental processes 
 like that. It is intellectual prostitution. 
 
 To prepare myself fully for the field of American history that 
 it may be my privilege to cultivate, I purpose first to go over 
 critically all the writers upon the subject of any note — 
 Bancroft, Hildreth, Grahams, Holmes, Palfrey, Robertson, and so 
 on. I have to-day begun Bancroft. I read him twelve years ago 
 in Owego, too rapidly, rather as a job. I have so many more 
 grappling hooks with which to take hold of him now — wider 
 acquaintance with books and history, and special literary interest 
 in his theme — that I shall now grasp him with more 
 entire attention and appreciation than I did then. The 
 introduction to his first volume, which I have just read, is a 
 piece of classic composition. I feel a little depressed. He has 
 apparently pre-empted a vast portion of the field. Then, too, 
 he began his work so early in life, and had so fine an outfit for 
 it in knowledge of continental languages, that I am humbled 
 by comparing myself with him. But here is a noble vocation, 
 in which the victorious virtues are self-reliance, faith, determina- 
 tion, and unquenchable persistence. 
 
 I have already set to work upon the large course of study 
 which I must pursue as a preparation for writing American 
 
 I 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 67 
 
 history. Believing that Buckle would help me to just ideas as 
 to the spirit, scope, and method of historical investigations, I 
 have commenced reading him, and am now nearly two-thirds 
 through the first volume. I find much in his reasoning to dissent 
 from; but still more, in his robust mental movement and in his 
 heroic learning, to admire. Already he is to me like a bracing 
 sea-breeze. He makes a quotation from Descartes which ex- 
 presses compactly a law that I am struggling to obey for my own 
 intellectual regeneration: "When I set forth in the pursuit of 
 truth, I found that the best way was to reject everything I had 
 hitherto conceived, and pluck out all my old opinions, in order 
 that I might lay the foundations afresh. We must not pass judg- 
 ment upon any subject which we do not clearly and distinctly 
 understand; for even if such judgment is correct, it can be so only 
 by accident, not having solid ground on which to support itself." 
 
 [On May 10, 187 1, Moses Coit Tyler went to New York, 
 where he had been invited to give an address at a mass meeting 
 of the American Woman's Suffrage Association in Steinway Hall, 
 and, being in sympathy with the subject, he readily accepted. 
 There he met Lucy Stone, JuKa Ward Howe, Mrs. Livermore, 
 and others interested in the cause. The following is in brief 
 his argimient for woman suffrage:] 
 
 "Women have called attention to the fact that men still apply 
 to them in our laws and poKtical usages the maxims that have 
 come to us from Asia and from Europe of the middle ages, and 
 while these maxims may be perfectly appropriate to the sort of 
 women produced by the society of Asia or of mediaeval Europe, 
 they are not appropriate to the woman of the nineteenth century. 
 The American woman is not a toy, a wax doll, nor a chattel. 
 She does not wish the contemptuous worship of mediaeval chiv- 
 alry. She does not wish the pretty compliments at the expense 
 
68 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 of her personality. She reads, she reasons, she has ideas, she 
 trades, she writes, she is a person, she is a member of the state, 
 to suffer, to serve, to pay taxes, to wield influences, to aid in 
 shaping the destinies she is to share. She objects to pretty 
 speeches to her and about her, so long as the practical commen- 
 tary upon the pretty speeches turns them into indignities. And 
 what is the poHtical value of personality? Everything! The 
 only absolutely sacred objects in this world are persons. The 
 upshot of all modem civilization is to show the fundamental 
 worth of personality. The upshot of modern political science 
 is to demonstrate that all poUtical rights rest, not in property, 
 not in social rank, nor even in education, nor in color, nor in sex, 
 but in personality. All the great civil convulsions in Christen- 
 dom since the fifteenth century, all the great political reformers, 
 all the famous declarations of human rights, have meant simply 
 this incomparable superiority of persons over things and the 
 effort to bring this truth nearer and nearer to a practical recog- < 
 nition in laws and institutions. 
 
 "The right of suffrage is a right resting in persons, and all 
 persons whatsoever who are members of the state are entitled 
 to this right, whether they as yet have it or not. 
 
 "This is no dream of transcendentahsm, this is not the formula 
 of fanaticism or of rhapsody; it is the cool and deliberate conclu- 
 sion of political science. If the authority of great names in 
 poHtical science could add any force to a declaration so strong 
 in its own simplicity and in its obvious truth, we might easily 
 bring them forward. The very latest word to this effect in po- 
 litical science has been spoken by an American — a scholar and 
 philosopher — Elisha Mulford, who, in his great treatise recently 1| 
 pubHshed on the Foundations of civil order and political life 
 in the United States, has shown by principles taught by the great 
 masters of political science, from Aristotle to Hegel and Blunt- 
 schli and Maurice, that the nation is constituted only in the 
 
 i 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 69 
 
 representation of persons, and not in the representation of class 
 interests, or of families, or of the mere accidents attaching to 
 human beings, or of color, or of sex. 'This,' says Mulford, 'is 
 the principle which has the broadest ground in history and the 
 only ground in reason, and the necessary ground in justice.' 
 'The right to vote,' says this profound pohtical philosopher, 
 'is the right of every person who is a member of the nation.' 
 And there is absolutely no exception to this principle. The 
 repeal of the vote to foreign persons not naturahzed constitutes 
 no exception: for such persons are not as yet members of the 
 nation. The refusal of the vote to children and minors and idiots 
 and lunatics constitutes no exception; for these persons and indi- 
 viduals, either from immaturity or infirmity, have not the con- 
 scious self-determination of persons, and by the law as by philoso- 
 phy are not regarded, as is the case of woman, which does come 
 under the rule of persons. But the refusal of the vote to her is a 
 palpable and a gross violation of this fundamental principle of 
 political science that the right to vote is the right of every per- 
 son who is a member of the state. It is as great an outrage upon 
 common sense as it is upon common gratitude and common 
 decency to assert that any of the reasons which justify the exclu- 
 sion of foreigners not naturalized, of minors, idiots, lunatics, and 
 criminals, apply to her case and justify her exclusion. For her 
 exclusion from the vote there is absolutely no valid reason to be 
 alleged on any theory which does not at the same time destroy 
 democratic institutions altogether. The denial of woman suf- 
 frage is logically the denial of manhood suffrage, too. No 
 political philosophy has ever recognized, nor ever can recognize, 
 mere sex as the grotmd of political rights, and so the basis of 
 suffrage. For the same reason, therefore, all citizens who are 
 feminine have the right to vote because they are members 
 of the state. If you deny the reason in the one case, you 
 must deny it in the other. The vote is the right of personality 
 
70 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 but personality is not an affair of sex. Personality includes 
 both sexes. Therefore the right to vote includes both sexes." 
 
 New York, May lo, iSyi. Started this morning for Brook- 
 lyn. Walked. Reached Theodore Tilton's, 174 Livingston 
 street, at one o'clock. Was invited up to his sky study. As I 
 approached the door it partly opened and a hand came forth 
 and a voice sa)dng, "Ticket, please; ticket!" Then the door 
 swimg open and I was cordially greeted by him. Found there 
 Frank Moulton. Theodore Tilton looked rather grim. He is 
 working hard and is certainly not a happy man at home. I was 
 impressed with the bitterness of his spirit. He is occasionally 
 witty and sprightly as of old, but there is no stir as of the deep 
 foimtains of tranquil joy in his soul. His talk is of the sham of 
 church and state; he has seen the hoUowness of society and the 
 worthlessness of men, and he seems to carry a stem, magnificent 
 sort of disgust. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 28 September, i8yi. I have been occasionally^ 
 and of late frequently, overtaken with an inability to see the 
 words of the page I was reading or the tip of the pen with which 
 I was writing. Then came a wavering and dizziness before my 
 sight. The other day I spoke to the doctor about it. I feared 
 that it was caused by smoking, perhaps by coffee, possibly by 
 indigestion. It just begins to steal upon me now that it is caused 
 by old age! So to-day, bowing to my fate, at the age of thirty- 
 six, I accept the first venerable sign of senility and buy me a 
 pair of spectacles. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 5 October, 187 1. It is very odd, but ever since I 
 brought home that pair of spectacles my eyes have been abso- 
 lutely well, and have done eflEiciently all I have required of them 
 for eight or ten hours each day; and all this by simply having 
 the spectacles locked up in my desk ready to put on in case 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 71 
 
 my eyes did not behave themselves. Have I not stumbled upon 
 a new remedy in ocular therapeutics? 
 
 My bones testify all the time in favor of my choice of American 
 history for the literary work of my Hfe. The thought grows upon 
 me day by day and entirely possesses me. But I feel bitterly 
 the need of French, German, Spanish, and Italian. I shall have 
 to give at least two and perhaps four or even six years to those 
 preliminary studies, in language, mental philosophy, mathematics 
 and physical science, necessary to qualify me for entering upon 
 the studies connected directly with that first volume. If in ten 
 years I have it pubHshed I shall not be dissatisfied; but it would 
 delight me to have it ready for the awful centenary year of 
 1876 — i. e., in just five years. 
 
 [Early in the following year a startling experience in the shape 
 of a threat of assassination was revealed through a letter from a 
 stranger who felt it his duty to write the following warning:] 
 
 LETTER FROM EDWARD CAHILL TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Chicago J III., February 8, 18^2 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 A young man who gives his name as Cota or Cot6 has 
 been in this city for some weeks and was yesterday in our office. 
 While here he used your name in such a manner as to excite 
 in our minds suspicion that he intended doing you some harm. 
 His language was very violent when speaking of you. He also 
 asked our opinion of Mr. G. Lothrop, of Detroit, as a lawyer, 
 saying he wished to secure the services of the ablest lawyer he 
 could find, but for what purpose he did not say. 
 
 I only write this to put you on your guard, knowing how full 
 the very atmosphere seems to be of that moral mania which leads 
 to murder and other crimes, and having learned the young man's 
 character badly spoken of here and elsewhere, I could not feel 
 satisfied until you knew as much, at least, as I did of how the 
 young man feels. 
 
72 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 He said nothing at all about the reasons for his feelings toward 
 you. I do not think there is any occasion for alarm, but you had 
 best be on your guard. He left here yesterday for Jonesville, 
 and said he should go from thence to Ann Arbor. 
 
 I have not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with you, 
 but I have too high a regard for the Professor Tyler who belongs 
 to our country to remain quiet even at the risk of being called 
 an alarmist. Yours, &c., 
 
 Edward Cahill. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Ann Arbor, 12 February, 1872 
 Dear Jack: 
 
 I send you a letter which may interest you. It is very 
 unique. The writer is unknown to me. The person referred to 
 is a Canadian named Cote, who came here with his wife about 
 two years ago, or less; lived on his wife's earnings as a French 
 teacher; and whose brutahties toward her stirred up such general 
 indignation that, on being appealed to, I went with Judge Cooley 
 and the Congregational minister and told Cote that he must 
 leave the town at once or he would be mobbed. He decamped at 
 once, horribly frightened, and has never since returned except 
 for about eight hours. I afterward accidentally met him in 
 Detroit and the interview was friendly. He has since written 
 me a letter in the same tone. I had no idea of his enmity to- 
 ward me, or that he singled me as the special object of his rage. 
 His wife has lately got a divorce in the circuit court here. I 
 have not seen anything of him yet since the letter. He is a 
 profuse boaster and an abject coward; but if he has worked 
 himseK up into a fury and is not afraid to fire off a pistol, of 
 course he may aim it at me, and I suppose I cannot help giving 
 him daily and nightly chances to do so. 
 
 I was rather startled at first reading the letter, as my mode 
 of life is not one which brings me into hostile relations with my 
 fellow-beings, and I was not prepared for such a revelation. 
 Since then I have reflected that Cot6 is too great a coward to 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 73 
 
 do anything, unless his mania for assassination, feeding on his 
 vanity for making a newspaper sensation, should indeed qualify 
 him for an act of boldness. 
 
 All I can do is to go about my business and keep a sharp look- 
 out for sneaks skulking around corners. 
 
 Please return this letter to me at once and let me know 
 what you think of it. Your affectionate brother, 
 
 Moses. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 15 February, iSyi, Ann Arbor 
 I showed Cahill's letter to Judge Cooley. He repHed that 
 if Cote ever attacked me, and I didn't kill him dead as a door 
 nail, he never would speak to me again. The more I think of 
 Cote, the more I consider him to be a contemptible, cowardly 
 cuss of a Kanuck, but I shall do just what you suggest. Your 
 advice reveals your genius at once for military and civil affairs. 
 I shall adopt it and think it dirt cheap at that fee. 
 
 In a hurry still, 
 
 M. C. T. 
 
 Ann Arbor, April 21, i8y2. I am revising old university 
 lectures and writing new ones, as well as preparing a new lyceum 
 lecture. All this intended work is now done six weeks sooner 
 than I expected. I shall now reward myself for my industry 
 by giving my mind the treat of working upon American history. 
 This past week I have read the two volumes of Austin Gerry's, 
 an admirable work; I set out to-day on the Life and works of 
 John Adams, in ten volumes. 
 
 Ann Arbor, June 2Q, 1872. On the evening before commence- 
 ment day Regent George Willard sat with us. He was a delegate 
 to the Philadelphia convention and helped in the nomination of 
 Grant. He gave me this bit of secret history, showing that 
 
 I 
 
74 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Colfax was slaughtered by the man at the White House. Wil- 
 lard said that he made the acquaintance of Colonel Witherington, 
 the most influential man on the CaHfornia delegation. That 
 delegation was undecided between Colfax and Wilson. More- 
 over, the Nevada delegation preferred Colfax, but had decided 
 to follow the lead of Cahfornia, whichever the latter might take. 
 Witherington, being in Washington before the convention met, 
 determined to find if possible what Grant's preferences were, 
 and to throw the delegations accordingly. He went to the 
 White House, saw Gen. Horace Porter, and asked him point- 
 edly which man Grant would like best to have on the ticket with 
 him. Porter would not answer. Finally, after much vain 
 soHcitation, Witherington said: "Well, General, tell me this: 
 Which do you consider the stronger man for the ticket?" "Oh, 
 Wilson, by all means." That reply was enough to satisfy Wither- 
 ington that Grant would be pleased to have Wilson substituted 
 for Colfax. He went away and persuaded his delegation to 
 cast its votes in that manner, and the Nevada delegates followed 
 suit. Had they gone for Colfax he would have been elected. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 4 July, 1872. It is dissolvingly hot. I could 
 wish that Fourth of July did not begin quite so early in the 
 morning. Between day dawn and seven o'clock, amid the 
 clangor of our juvenile and enterprising artillery, I had only 
 fitful glimpses of patriotism, and was in considerable doubt 
 about the desirableness of the Declaration of Independence. 
 Upon the whole I thought that the Tories had the best of it: 
 and this political heresy has fallen upon me several times even 
 since breakfast. 
 
 I have spent the whole day at home, reading the noble second 
 volume of John Adams. It has been curious to live, at the 
 same moment, at both ends of the century; to palpitate with 
 the anxious joy of July 4, 1776, and then, by a big bang near my 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 75 
 
 study window to be hustled through a hundred years and partake 
 of the settled but noisy fruition of July 4,1872. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 2 August, i8y2. And so I am thirty-seven years 
 old to-day ! Twenty years ago I expected to have done more by 
 this time. In outward achievement I have indeed but little to 
 show; but in the management of myself, and in the sweetness 
 of an assured vocation, I may say that the real battle of life 
 is won. Though I die at the end of this sentence or before, I 
 have not made a failure of this business of living. And if I 
 mistake not, as to outward results, those will come by and by, 
 all the better for waiting. 
 
 My history is to be from the peace of 1783, not the inaugu- 
 ration in 1789. 
 
 Amt Arbor, 21 September, 18^2. Mother and my uncle James 
 Greene came out from Detroit this morning and returned this 
 evening. I had never before seen him and I now think it a great 
 loss. He is a grand old fellow and we had a royal time with 
 him. 
 
 In talking with me he told some stories about his college days 
 at Amherst, where he was graduated in 1837. Henry Ward 
 Beecher was senior while Uncle James was freshman and they 
 both belonged to the same debating society, in which Beecher 
 was very eminent. Beecher was noted for his inattention to 
 study, especially of mathematics. One night a humorous essay 
 was read, containing various absurd h5rpotheses to account for 
 a great meteoric shower which had just taken place. The final 
 theory was that the solar system was agitated and destroyed by 
 the fact that that evening — i. e., on which the shower had oc- 
 curred — Beecher had looked into his mathematics. He was in 
 the chair as president. After the roars of laughter had subsided 
 the essayist pronounced this hypothesis utterly absurd, because 
 
76 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 it was simply incredible that Beecher had looked into his mathe- 
 matics that evening! On another occasion the students stayed 
 after morning prayers to consider a plan for complimenting Henry 
 Clay, who was just then on a visit to Northampton. One stu- 
 dent moved that the students wait upon him in a body and 
 present him with a copy of the Constitution and the Bible. 
 Another student rose and expressed himself surprised at such a 
 proposal, and said he would like to know what reasons could be 
 advanced for such a proposal. This brought up Beecher. He 
 was ready for such emergencies. His mind worked impromptu. 
 He made a short, ringing, pungent speech, supporting the plan, 
 which fairly electrified the audience and carried the measure 
 by storm. Uncle James remembered with what energy he 
 closed with the words: "It is, therefore, eminently fitting that 
 we should present to this illustrious statesman these two books — 
 the one being the Constitution of our country and the other 
 the Constitution of our God." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 1873 - 1875 
 
 [Early in the year 1873 Moses Coit Tyler went to New York 
 as the literary editor of the Christian union^ with the promise 
 of a salary of $3,500 for the first year and a constant 
 increase until it should reach $5,000. Henry Ward Beecher 
 was editor-in-chief and Oliver Johnson managing editor. The 
 contract was terminated before the expiration of the three years, 
 because the wear and tear of New York life proved too taxing; 
 moreover, it chafed him to come under the dictation of another 
 man and he regarded the whole experience as "the most dis- 
 tasteful, exhausting, and ungrateful" work he was ever in.] 
 
 New York, January ig, 18^3. Last Friday I met Henry 
 Ward Beecher at his office. I had not seen him since New Year's 
 day, 1868 — five years ago. I found him a gray, haggard old 
 man. His face shows time and bitterness of spirit. He greeted 
 me pleasantly and asked kindly after my health, and, turning 
 facetiously to Oliver Johnson, said, "When I knew this man 
 he was a good orthodox minister at Poughkeepsie." He then 
 wanted to know if my theology had soured on my stomach. I 
 told him it had. He remarked that "some kinds will do that." 
 Upon my telling him that my kind which I took at Andover had, 
 he went off into an eloquent talk about Galvanism, which he said 
 was grand, symmetrical, logical, but merciless as fate; it was the 
 perfect synthesis of fatalism. After a pause he said, " Oliver tells 
 me he has been setting his trap for you." He then passed into a 
 discussion of what he wanted the paper to be, saying, " My heart 
 
 77 
 
78 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 is with the radicals, but my emotions are with the orthodox." 
 He emitted several epigrams and facetiae, but nothing bubbled 
 up as from a fountain of serene light and joy. Perhaps it was 
 in my imagination, but I thought I had seldom seen eyes and a 
 face expressing greater wretchedness. It was indeed the counte- 
 nance of a great soul in desolation. After a while he pulled 
 out a Memphis sectarian paper in which he was denounced 
 as the Devil for his heresies. "Well," with a shrug, "if I am 
 the Devil, then the Devil is a much better fellow than I took him 
 to be." 
 
 New Yorkj March 26, 1873. Room 28, Bible House. Yester- 
 day I took temporary possession of these pleasant rooms in this 
 dignified building. My own desk is not ready for me, and for a 
 few days I am to use that of Henry Ward Beecher. Is there an 
 omen in that? On the first of May I am to have another one, 
 which I shall fit up for my study. Here I am to come mornings 
 and busy myself in real study, and it is not until after one that 
 I shall go to the office. Last evening I spent with EHsha 
 Mulford. If I could take time to describe and report his talk 
 it would be worth the trouble. 
 
 New York J March 31, 1873. I lectured last Thursday at Car- 
 bondale, Pa., and happily that ends my toils of that kind for this 
 spring. My Old English ballads has proved the most successful 
 lecture I have ever given. On Saturday last I received from 
 Chancellor Winchell an invitation to deliver the commencement 
 address before the University of Syracuse next June, and, after 
 some moments of doubt as to want of time, decided to do it. 
 This morning I have been growing to the subject: The first col- 
 leges and college builders of America. Yesterday I spent mostly 
 in writing a review of Grace Greenwood's brilliant book. New 
 life in new lands. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 79 
 
 New York, April i, i8y^. Yesterday found note on my desk 
 written by A. D. White inviting me to dine with him and a few 
 friends at Union League Club. He greatly encourages me to 
 go on in my American studies and intimated when my lectures 
 were ready I should have a professorship to my liking at Cornell. 
 At the dinner were David A. Wells, Mr. Walker, Professor 
 Botta, Mr. Appleton, Dr. Henry M. Field and others. Wells 
 impressed me by his force, dignity, wit, and air of reserved 
 power. He discusses or narrates well. He told effectively some 
 good stories, apologizing for their breadth. He expressed 
 great contempt for Grant, his dense ignorance; and gave il- 
 lustrations of it. One was Grant's wanting a duty taken off 
 from putty, not knowing that its ingredients were white lead 
 and linseed oil. 
 
 At last White said: "You mustn't bear too hard on Grant. 
 After all he keeps up a good deal of thinking." "About what?" 
 pungently retorted Wells, quick as lightning. 
 
 Wells also expressed great contempt for such historians as 
 Prescott and Motley. They were mere story tellers. Their 
 fame is too great for the sort of faculties they have brought into 
 use. Wells said that L. S. Foster, of Norwich, told him that 
 many years ago Motley, who had produced two dead novels, 
 was at his home, when everybody was talking about Prescott. 
 Motley said, "I believe I can do as well as that myself, and I'll 
 see about it." 
 
 On the evening after Motley was made minister to England 
 he and Wells dined together and Motley expressed his inability 
 to understand financial questions or even to get interested 
 in them. Wells said that fact explains the great defect in 
 Motley's history. He does not see that it was the Jews 
 and their financial influence in the Netherlands that greatly 
 influenced its poHtics and pushed it forward to religious 
 toleration. 
 
8o MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 25 Aprilj 1873. Last eve we were invited to a dinner at 
 Professor Botta's. The company were: Bret Harte, Grace 
 Greenwood, Frederick Law Olmsted, and others. 
 
 Mr. Olmsted is very modest and quiet, talks hesitantly and 
 little, has a big forehead with diminishing hair on top, and does 
 not look like the man of executive force he is. 
 
 Bret Harte appears well. No eccentricity of maimer, no west- 
 ernisms, nothing loud or ungainly, but a self-possessed, unassum- 
 ing manner, with the ease and tone of a polished gentleman. 
 He was the lion of the evening. No one talked brilliantly. He 
 usually took the ludicrous or sarcastic view of things. I fell 
 into talk with him about the Modoc Indians. He says they be- 
 long to the Digger tribe, by no means a fierce or aggressive body, 
 and that they have been goaded into fury by frauds and cruelties 
 that have been practised upon them. He rather defended them. 
 Grace Greenwood was dressed to represent the California miner, 
 and impersonated, with clever recitations, some of Bret Harte's 
 poems. 
 
 New York, 6 May, 1873. On the first I moved, like all New 
 Yorkers. I left room 28 and came into room 66, where I now 
 write, and where I expect to have my study for a year at least. 
 My immediate predecessor in this room was Mr. Frank Moore, 
 the historian, who, returning from Paris with Minister Wash- 
 bum, used the room as a place for the exhibition of books and 
 pictures brought from Paris and for sale. My carpet is a straw 
 matting which was used by dear Horace Greeley in room 63, 
 where he wrote The American conflict. So as a writer of 
 American history I am not without some inspiring associations. 
 
 New York, 10 May, 1873. Last night we went to Association 
 Hall to hear George Macdonald's farewell lecture in America. 
 His subject was Hamlet. WiUiam Cullen Bryant, who pre- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 8i 
 
 sided and introduced the lecturer, with a careful and graceful 
 little speech, was for me the principal inducement to go. A 
 number of persons accompanied the lecturer to the platform, 
 Doctor Bellows, Dr. William Taylor, Dr. J. G. Holland, etc. 
 Bryant I had never seen before, but I instantly recognized him 
 from my acquaintance with his photographic protraits. The 
 only thing about him fully up to the photographs is his beard, 
 which is of oriental profusion and majesty. Perhaps the hard 
 brightness of his eyes is also in Kfe equal to the pictures. But 
 his forehead and upper face are by no means so great and impres- 
 sive as I had been led to expect; his frame, which I somehow 
 fancied was huge and burly, is not tall nor broad but rather 
 meagre. He does not look amiable or particularly generous, 
 but intensely intellectual. Indeed his body is apparently under 
 exquisite subjection to the service of his soul. His speech was 
 evidently written out and memorized, and he spoke with some 
 hesitation, and in one case a decided pause to recall what he had 
 learned, a mistaken advance, then a retreat, to put in what he 
 had left out, etc. Of course his English was very pure and his 
 sentences well turned. He paid graceful compliments to the 
 genius of George Macdonald. During the lecture Mr. Bryant 
 fell into a nap more than once. At each waking he reminded 
 me vividly of Jefferson in Rip Van Winkle, after his vigintennial 
 doze. Byrant usually goes to bed at nine o'clock, and this was 
 keeping him up long after that hour. 
 
 New York, 25 May, i8yj. Went to Plymouth Church this 
 morning. Beecher preached a noble sermon on the limitations 
 of meaning in Christ's words in the sermon on the mount. After 
 sermon I went to shake hands with him. He said to me, "I 
 say, old fellow, whenever I go to the office I never find you 
 there." "That," I replied, "is owing to the fact that whenever 
 I go there you never come." Whereupon he laughed and told 
 
82 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 with much mimic humor a comical story of a man in a wagon who 
 shouted to a boy: "What do you bawl so for whenever I go 
 by?" The boy repKed, "What do you go by for whenever I 
 bawl?" 
 
 New York, December 28, iSyj. No. 27 W. i8th St. Ever 
 since last August we have boarded at this house. Among other 
 people Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Johnson are at our table. He excels 
 in anecdotes about ministers. Here is one: Rev. Dr. Parkman, 
 of Boston, father of the Doctor Parkman who was murdered by 
 Professor Webster, was a very short, slender man with a mild 
 feminine voice. One Sunday he exchanged with a country 
 minister. The latter was a very tall man and his pulpit was 
 adapted to his altitude. When Doctor Parkman arose, merely 
 the top of his head was visible over the pulpit, and when he 
 came to give out his text, he said in a squeaky voice, "It is I, 
 be not afraid!" 
 
 New York, 28 January, 1874. Last night went to a party at 
 Dr. and Mrs. Henry M. Field's, given particularly in honor of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Charles Dudley Warner. There was a great 
 throng and many notables were there — Bryant, John Bigelow, 
 Stedman, Dr. W. B. Adams, George Ripley, etc. Doctor Field 
 introduced me to Bryant, who was in conversation with Mrs. 
 Stedman. I was appalled at the thought of meeting him and 
 didn't know how to start the conversation. He kindly broke 
 the ice after a few moments' delay by asking me if I had lived 
 in New York long. This gave me a beginning and all things went 
 on smoothly then. He told me that he read our paper every 
 week, and that he had seen my review of his Orations last summer. 
 "It was very kind," he added. His tones in speech are just a 
 little angular and sharp, with a trace of the New England in- 
 flection. While we were talking Doctor Holland came up and said 
 to Byrant, pointing to me, "This man says he has just been on 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 83 
 
 my track "(referring to what I had said a few minutes before 
 to Doctor Holland). "What does he mean by that?" said Bryant. 
 "Why, he has been off lecturing in the western part of this 
 state and has followed me in towns where I had just before lec- 
 tured. I believe you have never lectured any, Mr. Bryant, 
 taking carpet-bag in hand and trudging from town to town?" 
 Bryant: "No." 
 
 By some link the talk became connected with the subject of 
 memory and Doctor Holland told of Bayard Taylor's saying that 
 he could not forget anything; that all he heard or read, good 
 or bad, stuck to him, and sometimes it was hard to distinguish 
 between what he himself originated and what he only remem- 
 bered. Bayard Taylor cited the case of his reading a poem in a 
 newspaper in a chop-house in London, and months afterward 
 in America some circumstance reminded him of it, and he found 
 he could repeat the whole poem. 
 
 Bryant replied that he himself had a good memory; that any 
 address he wrote was immediately imprinted on his mind, and 
 that if all his poems were burnt up he could replace them from 
 memory. 
 
 Upon the whole Bryant's bearing was worthy of his great 
 name, dignified, most self-respectful, gentle, unassuming, kindly. 
 I had no other talk that was memorable, and we came away early. 
 
 New York, 2 February, i8'/4. Having finished a careful reading 
 of Sparks's writings of Washington, I commence to-day the 
 writings of Jefferson in nine volumes. I am also midway in 
 Marshall's Life of Washington, but being tired of battles I turn to 
 Jefferson's racy, versatile, and brilliant compositions. Last night 
 I heard a paper by President Welling, of Columbia University, 
 on the Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence. It was an 
 exquisite specimen of historical criticism, and annihilates the 
 last pretense to authenticity in that notorious document. Met 
 
84 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Dr. George Moore at the Historical Society. Incidentally he 
 expressed great contempt for Lessing as a historian, considering 
 him a mere hack, besides being credulous and even reckless about 
 facts. 
 
 New York, ij May, 1874. My life in New York is very dis- 
 tasteful to me. I hate the newspaper and its work; but I must 
 work on faithfully till I have paid the penalty for my blunders 
 and sins. 
 
 New York, 18 May, 1874. I was offered yesterday the posi- 
 tion of associate managing editor of the Evening post, salary 
 $4,000. The offer was brought to me by Robert Dale Owen. 
 I thanked him, but told him that my next move would be out of 
 journalism altogether rather than any further into it. 
 
 This morning I had the best working mood I have had for 
 weeks. Topics tumble in upon me like breakers on the beach. 
 
 New York, June 50, i8'/4. This morning took breakfast at the 
 Quaker Dairy and saw in the Times Theodore Tilton's published 
 reply to Doctor Bacon concerning the Beecher scandal. I could 
 not eat. At the office all day, trying to work and waiting for 
 events. The subject is everywhere talked of. It is very bad. 
 The question now is, Will Beecher say anything? And what can 
 he say? 
 
 New York, 14 August, 1874. Oh, this weary, disgusting edi- 
 torial work! When shall I be rid of it? Ah, this is my purga- 
 tory, in which I am expiating my sins of hasty conclusion and of 
 putting out my own thinking to be done for me. Rose early 
 and by 6:30 was reading Beecher's defence in the Tribune. It 
 is an able and plausible document, but not compelling conviction. 
 It furnishes an hypothesis of innocence to those who must have 
 one, of ionocence at the expense gf Beecher's supposed good 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 85 
 
 sense, knowledge of human nature, penetration, foresight, or 
 moral courage. 
 
 New York, 15 August, 18^4. This morning a new batch of 
 materials about the nauseous scandal. Beecher's cross-examina- 
 tion and Tilton's letters to his wife and hers to him. I am waiting 
 as patiently as I can for news from Doctor Angell, deciding 
 my destiny as to Ann Arbor. C. K. Adams thinks it very prob- 
 able that in my case the regents will violate their rule of never 
 recalling a man who has left them. I feel that I am going there; 
 but I try to keep my heart free. There are many advantages 
 in not going; but going would give me an easier life. 
 
 New York, 18 August, 18^4. My impression of Henry Ward 
 Beecher is utterly at war with that respect which a man should 
 feel for his chief. I think he has been a profligate man, grossly 
 so, and has tried to cover up his crimes by hypocrisy, lying, and 
 unutterable sneaking and meanness. 
 
 As I beHeve in God, so do I believe that the laws of God must 
 and will be vindicated by the utter unmasking and public infamy 
 of this man. But while I am on his paper I hold my tongue. 
 Even his salary cannot prevent me from thinking. 
 
 New York, 21 August, 18/4. Moulton's full statement ap- 
 peared in the Graphic. It comes too late to produce a serious 
 effect on the public mind. 
 
 New York, 25 August, 18^4. The long-expected letter from 
 President Angell came this morning, and tells me to set my house 
 in order for going. I go. Had this come suddenly, I should 
 have been in ecstasy, but I have had time to prepare for it, and 
 my happiness in the solution of my destiny is calm but very 
 sweet. 
 
 New York, 2 September, 1874. In passing from Broadway 
 
86 LIFE OF MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 to the office in Park place I saw Theodore Tilton coming toward 
 me. Had not seen him for several months. He is growing 
 gray, but on the whole has a firm and resolute look. We greeted 
 each other cordially, but both were somewhat constrained. He 
 said, he "was well, never better" ; joked about our paper getting 
 up a great scandal; asked what had got into Oliver; said, 
 "It is a big fight." "An awful fight," I replied, to which he said, 
 "And it isn't ended yet." He asked me to lunch with him, 
 but I told him I had lunched. He wanted at least ten minutes, 
 but I told him that while I was employed by Henry Ward Beech- 
 er I could not freely converse with him, but that I hoped that we 
 might meet in happier circumstances, when we could talk freely. 
 I wanted to express myself freely to Theodore, but I put a power- 
 ful padlock on my lips. I resolve if possible to keep my name 
 out of this repulsive business. 
 
 New York, 12 September , 1874. This has been a happy day; 
 for at twelve o'clock I bade farewell to George S. Merriam, Col. 
 C. L. Norton, and others, and marched out of the Christian union 
 office with the joy of a prisoner out of the penitentiary. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 16 September, 1874. Home again! Up and out 
 before breakfast in the sweet and still morning. The tranquilHty 
 of the place is like balm to my brain and nerves. After dinner 
 entered for the first time my dear old lecture room. I am alone. 
 The room is clean and cheerful and gives me welcome. Here I 
 feel I am to spend the rest of my days. I am full of peace. 
 My prayer is answered. I thank God for his goodness to me in 
 putting me here again. 
 
 [The next few months were spent in profound peace and sat- 
 isfaction — work in the class-room and work on his book, A 
 manual of English literature, published in England in 1873 by 
 Henry Morley, thoroughly revised and adapted to American 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 87 
 
 students through the courtesy of Mr. Morley himself. It was 
 not pubhshed in America until 1879, after having been 
 rearranged with much new material.] 
 
 New York, ji December, 18^4. Arrived in New York. Saw 
 Frank Moulton. He is greatly changed since six months. He 
 looks as if he had suffered great trouble. He began by telling me 
 the line of facts proving his fidelity to Beecher while their friend- 
 ship lasted. The conversation ranged over the whole topic 
 of abominations. Frank frequently applied to Beecher such 
 names as " that damned sneak and Hbertine." I told him frankly 
 what I thought had been his principal mistakes. The greatest 
 was that he had called Butler into the case, a man without moral 
 sense or deHcacy or any other wisdom than low cunning. Frank 
 told me how Butler came into the case as Beecher's friend, and 
 read me some of the testimony which Mrs. Moulton is going to 
 give. It is most explicit. F. B. Carpenter came in while we 
 were at dinner, and when at about eight we started to go to 
 Theodore's he went with us. It was just four years ago to-night, 
 Moulton said, that he extorted the retraction from Beecher in 
 the famous pistol scene. Theodore's house looked cheerless 
 enough. When Theodore saw me, he sprang toward me and 
 hugged me affectionately. He told me the characteristics of all 
 his lawyers and of those opposed to him; expressed no certain 
 confidence concerning the result, but an inflexible purpose to 
 fight the battle through to the end even though he should perish. 
 His appearance and manner were much in his favor, no bravado 
 or conceit, but a solemnly earnest, calm, and grand manner. 
 About half-past ten we left Theodore, he conveying us to the 
 door. It was a wrecked home. Just seven years ago to-night 
 I stopped there for the first time. It was then a paradise. Car- 
 penter and I walked uptown together, passing Grace Church just 
 as the New Year's chimes were ringing at twelve o'clock. 
 
88 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 New Yo'^k, 3 January, i8y^. At about eleven this morning I 
 called on George Ripley, the veteran literary editor of the 
 Tribune. He lives in an elegant way. He was very glad to see 
 me and would not let me make a short call. He told me some 
 interesting things about Bancroft. He said that Bancroft is a 
 good talker in monologue, and under a little stimulus. He is a 
 poor listener, and is manifestly inattentive to what is said to him. 
 This is one reason of his personal unpopularity. Many years 
 ago Ripley lived neighbor to Bancroft in Boston. One day 
 Ripley had a friend with him, when Bancroft came in and was 
 introduced. Bancroft began in rather a high-horse fashion, 
 declaring that most great battles had been won by men who were 
 ardently interested in the object contended for. To this Mr. 
 
 said bluntly, "That is not so," and cited the case of the 
 
 sea-fight in the War of 1812 between the Guerri^re and the ship 
 Constitution in which the marines on the victorious ship had to 
 be forced to the guns by the officers threatening to shoot them 
 if they deserted their posts. Upon this Bancroft was aroused 
 to defend his position, and in impassioned and eloquent language 
 went over the principal battles of modern times, giving names, 
 dates, etc., and pouring forth an overwhelming flood of learning. 
 
 In the midst of it Mr. broke in, "Sir, are you reciting from 
 
 a book, or are you really talking?" " I am talking, sir ! " squealed 
 Bancroft, and rushed on in his impetuous argument. At last, 
 
 having finished, he abruptly left the house. Mr. exclaimed, 
 
 "Who under heaven is this wonderful man?" "Why, didn't 
 you understand the name? It is Bancroft, George Bancroft." 
 "What! the historian?" cried Mr. , now thoroughly intimi- 
 dated at his own audacity in presuming to contradict him. 
 
 Mr. Ripley said that Bancroft toils tremendously in writing 
 history, getting up his materials with great care, writing and 
 rewriting indefatigably. Years ago, on Mr. Ripley's going to 
 Bancroft's house in the evening, he used to find the historian 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 89 
 
 and his wife going over what had been written, and Mrs. Bancroft 
 would often say: "Listen to this, Mr. Ripley. Don't you think 
 it is too florid?" etc., etc. Mr. Ripley thinks it incredible that 
 Bancroft has ever consciously misstated anything, or perverted 
 testimony, as he is accused of doing. Ripley also thinks that 
 Bancroft means now to press on with his work, not to spend much 
 time in revising the past volumes, but to finish, in two or three 
 more volumes, his history down to recent times. More easily 
 said than done, I think. 
 
 Mr. Ripley is very witty, cordial and extremely modest in 
 self-reference. He does not pretend to be a literary critic, only 
 a reporter of new books, letting the books themselves tell their 
 own story. As an instance of his wit; I was describing a certain 
 literary charlatan as having much learning in his head, but hav- 
 ing where his conscience ought to be nothing but a vacuum, which 
 nature abhors, "especially in that place," quickly interposed 
 Mr. Ripley. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Feb. ij, Ann Arbor 
 Dear Jack: 
 
 I have been as busy as a pickpocket for the last six weeks, and 
 this is why I have limited myself to the enjoyment of receiving 
 your letters without adding to my satisfaction by writing a few. 
 
 When I got yours of the sixth I intended to write to you at 
 the Arlington in Washington, but this purpose, like so many 
 other good ones I have formed, simply went into the pavement 
 of the bad place. 
 
 Yours reached me just as I was leaving for Wooster University, 
 Ohio. At the latter place I gave an address and was rewarded 
 by a respectable fee and the title of LL. D. Notwithstanding 
 the latter dignity, I will still permit you to correspond with me on 
 the terms of familiarity to which you have grown accustomed. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 MOSE. 
 
go MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO SHELDON AND CO. 
 
 University of Michigan, March 5, 1875 
 
 To Messrs. Sheldon and Co., Publishers: 
 
 Sir: Our Professor Morris some time since handed tome the 
 copy of Backus's edition of Shaw's English literature which you 
 by mistake sent to him. 
 
 I am pleased with it, but prefer for our use the Complete man- 
 ual, which accordingly I have introduced. Your letters speak 
 of a "discount." We care nothing about that. Do you suppose 
 that we are in the book- trade? 
 
 Truly yours, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MR. , OF DETROIT, MICHIGAN 
 
 Ann Arbor, March 5, i8yj 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 The opinions of Christian scholars and thinkers are nearly 
 unanimous now that the Bible was not intended to be a revela- 
 tion in geology, or botany, or astronomy, or any other physical 
 science, but a revelation of spiritual truth alone; and that in 
 all these other matters the writers were permitted by the Divine 
 Spirit to reflect the notions that prevailed in their time, without 
 which their utterances on spiritual things would have seemed 
 preposterous to those to whom they were addressed. 
 
 As to the Mosaic account of creation, the word translated 
 "days" is commonly understood to mean "periods," and each 
 period may have been a geological epoch. 
 
 If you would Hke to read a good book on the subject by a 
 Christian scientist, get Winchell's Sketches of creation, which 
 will greatly delight you. 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 \ 
 
I 
 
 MOSES COIT TYLER 91 
 
 letter from moses coit tyler to dr. dio lewis 
 
 My dear Friend : 
 
 As I am not able to keep an amanuensis, and as my labors 
 during the term consume all my strength, it follows that my cor- 
 respondents get shabbily treated. This is why I have not sooner 
 thanked you for remembering me with a copy of your new book, 
 Chastity. I have examined it carefully. I find in it evi- 
 dence of the great care and of the high mood in which it was 
 composed; and I cannot doubt that so frank and noble-minded a 
 discussion of topics, usually consigned to a silence that is at 
 once squeamish and criminal, will be of immense use to multi- 
 tudes of men and women. 
 
 Give my affectionate regards to dear Mrs. Lewis. I am most 
 happy to be home again and five himdred miles from the foul 
 focus of the Brooklyn wave. Wishing you many more years of 
 usefulness, 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 letter from MOSES COIT TYLER TO A MAN LIVING IN DETROIT 
 
 Ann Arbor, May 16, 1875 
 My dear Friend : 
 
 I don't know why I should be reluctant to meet "an 
 avowed anti-Christian," especially when the one referred to is 
 well known to me by his own writings and by personal report as 
 a man possessed of all those nobihties of character which I under- 
 stand as Christian. After all, it is merely a matter of defini- 
 tions. If I took his definition of Christianity, I hope that I 
 should have the decency to be "an avowed anti-Christian," too. 
 Besides, the men whom I most like to meet are by no means those 
 whom I personally agree with. . . . 
 
 All of which is to say that I should like to be with you and 
 will do so if I can. My v/ife and I had already arranged to make 
 a family visit to Detroit next Sunday. I will try to see you, and 
 
92 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 perhaps I shall then know whether we can come in on the week 
 following. 
 With affectionate regards from us both to you all, 
 
 Yours heartily, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO PAUL HAYNE 
 
 Ann Arbor, June 5, i8^j 
 My dear and honored Friend : 
 
 I hope that your faith and charity toward me have not 
 been entirely drained by my neglect to write. In truth, it is 
 not my fault but the fault of circumstances. I am doing double 
 duty in the university this year in order to accommodate one of 
 my associates who had to go to China to observe the transit of 
 Venus. So that, after all, that radiant but mischievous god- 
 dess is to blame for my sin, as she has been for the sins of so 
 many other better men than I. 
 
 First of all let me inform you that the new volume of your 
 poems has not reached me yet. Of course I shall be delighted 
 to see it and shall look forward to having it as a gift from your 
 generous heart. ... I wish that you could come and spend 
 with us a few weeks of this enchanting season, in the midst of 
 the lovely pastoral scenery which surrounds us here. What a 
 treat it would be to have a real live poet with us, too! 
 
 Write soon and I'll try to be more prompt in future. 
 
 Heartily yours, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 letter from moses coit tyler to theodore tilton 
 
 Ann Arbor, July 3, 18'/ 5 
 My DEAR Theodore: 
 
 Ever since the tenth of December, 1870, when Oliver John- 
 son, at your request, told me the story of crime and sorrow 
 involving your household, I have never thought of you except 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 93 
 
 with anguish, the anguish of a loyal and sympathetic friendship. 
 I cannot now utter my full thought to you without here saying 
 what may seem cruel and hard — namely, that much of your course 
 since that time has given me pain, being the opposite of what 
 I thought wise and right; but I have excused you in my heart, 
 in the behef that you were staggering along, under the load of a 
 secret too horrible for mortal strength to bear, with steady gait, 
 as you had promised to do. But in this emergency of your life, 
 I want to say to you that I still believe in you; and that I can 
 still see for you, even after all this flame and blackness, the 
 possibiKty of a great career. The intimacy of life that has been 
 between you and me has left on me the impression of a noble and 
 a great nature. In all our intercourse and confidential talk 
 together your prevailing expression through word and act has 
 been that of a high-minded, pure, and magnanimous man; and 
 the things said against you in this trial implying personal baseness 
 I feel must be calumnies. The result of the trial is as favorable 
 to justice and to you as was to be expected in Brooklyn and this 
 year. But the true trial is yet to come. The real jury are not 
 these twelve men nor even contemporaries; they are those who 
 shall be born after all who are now alive are dead. I doubt if 
 the testimony will all be in for a hundred years yet. In that 
 slow process of the future through which the whole truth 
 will come out, exact justice will also be done; and I do not 
 dread to have my children and grandchildren know that I lived 
 and died the friend of Theodore Tilton. I cannot yet tell whether 
 your honor will yet permit you to drop utterly out of life 
 all thought of Beecher, and of his past, but I hope so. I implore 
 you if possible now to turn away from this loathsome topic and 
 to return to your true vocation as a literary artist and an orator 
 and to give the public the means of linking your mind with other 
 associations than those of this execrable theme that has shocked, 
 appalled, and degraded the civihzed world. 
 
 God bless you, dear Theodore, and help you to build grandly 
 the edifice of that splendid and beneficent career that is open to 
 you. 
 
 I want to give my hand in honest friendship to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Frank Moulton, whom I know to be the victims of awful slanders 
 
94 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 told for a cowardly purpose and destined to perish. Their vin- 
 dication is going on swiftly and will be complete. 
 
 With most earnest prayers that heaven may guide you, I 
 am, dear Theodore, 
 
 Your old and faithful friend, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 letter from moses coit tyler to mr. putnam 
 
 New York, August p, iS'/S. 
 George H. Putnam, Esq. 
 My dear Sir: 
 
 Since receiving your letter of the 31 July, I have been 
 taken from my desk by outdoor engagements and have really 
 been unable to write sooner. Besides I wanted to let our busi- 
 ness soak awhile in unconscious mental fermentation, that there 
 might be no mistake about the final decision. Upon the whole 
 I am inclined to go on with the thing after all, provided the sug- 
 gestions I am about to make do not present any insuperable 
 objections. 
 
 (i) With God's help, I mean to do in this life no more hack- 
 work, and no more second-hand work of any sort. Alas! I have 
 done enough already. If I do this work, I must do it thoroughly, 
 and artistically, from knowledge of my own in every case; from 
 a direct study of the quellen. I am a special student of American 
 history, and have paid particular attention to what we dignify 
 as literature in America in the seventeenth and eighteenth cen- 
 turies. Still, if I make a critical survey of the field I shall need 
 to run it over again. So of the greater and more fruitful period 
 of our century. 
 
 Therefore (2) I must have time enough to satisfy both my 
 scholarly and my literary conscience. Probably I could not 
 have the book ready for your hands before May i, 1876. I have 
 the materials well in hand and can set apart a good deal of time 
 for the work, but I should not dare to hope for an earlier achieve- 
 ment of the thing. 
 
 (3) My salary here supports me snugly, but if I want extra 
 money for books, I need to do extra work for it. Should I set 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 95 
 
 about this business I should need some books that are not to 
 be had here. Would you like to furnish them to me, letting 
 the payments wait till we see whether my book brings in any- 
 thing? 
 
 If you can arrange these things, I authorize you to announce 
 the book as in preparation. With reference to the possible use 
 of Arnold's book on English literature, of course, it would be 
 best to say nothing about it at present. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 letter from moses coit tyler to george h. putnam 
 
 Ann Arbor, August 27, iSy^ 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 I have yours of the twenty-fourth and have already set to 
 work upon the task which you suggested and which grows more 
 and more attractive as I think of it. 
 
 With reference to the time of completion, I can see the great 
 importance of having the book ready for taking the Centennial 
 enthusiasm at its flood. All that I can say is that I will do my 
 best. If I had my whole time and the necessary books within 
 my reach I could do it. As it is, I have my university work to 
 occupy and fatigue me; and shall have to borrow and buy and 
 bring here works which in New York or Boston would be access- 
 ible to me in public libraries. However, my habits of application 
 are pretty good, and I may pull through to the goal sooner than 
 I have supposed. If I can get down to the Revolutionary war 
 by Christmas I shall quite expect to be ready with the rest by 
 April I. 
 
 As to title, if it were not for the arrogance of it, I should 
 prefer History of American literature. Suppose we begin with 
 the modest one which you seem to have fallen upon, and call it 
 A survey of American literature. If when the thing is done it 
 seems worthy of being called a history, I suppose that nobody 
 would be hurt by our changing it to that. I shall be in New 
 York at Christmas and shall save up a bundle of topics to consult 
 you about 
 
96 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 I have this season built on my own grounds here, on a hill com- 
 manding the valley of the Huron, a fire-proof brick study. I 
 fancy that it is the most complete literary workshop in the West. 
 Its particular virtue is that it is safe against the e\il of fire; and 
 I can ask with some grace of such friends as George H. Moore and 
 Benson J. Lossing the loan of some books difficult to get in the 
 market at short notice. ^ 
 
 Have you among your friends any one of whom I could borrow | 
 rarities in early American literature? In a week or two, when 
 I shall have ascertained what I can lay my hands on here and in 
 Detroit, I will send you the names of some books I may need. 
 Yours faithfull}', 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 1876 — 1879 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MESSRS. G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 Ann Arbor, March 28, i8y6 
 Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons. 
 Gentlemen : 
 
 I have been feeling for some time past that I must write you 
 at some length a letter which should report to you the progress 
 of my labors on the book I have promised to write for you; 
 and especially because in grappling with the subject I find the 
 work if done in a scholarly way far slower and far more extensive 
 » and difiicult than I expected. Moreover, in actually dealing 
 with it I discover the possibihty of making a far more interesting 
 and important book than I expected; and while I stand ready 
 to complete for you the Outlines or Survey of American literature 
 (if on reading my statement you still desire it), I have also de- 
 termined to make a book to be published by some one and con- 
 stituting an elaborate History of American literature in at 
 least two and perhaps in three volumes. 
 
 To go back a little, let me say that ever since I undertook 
 the writing of the Survey for you I have worked at it very in- 
 dustriously, never stopping except for university duties, sickness, 
 rest, and other inevitable interruptions. The subject has con- 
 stantly grown upon my interest; and I have no greater satis- 
 faction in life than to be engaged upon it. And I have made 
 good progress; but I find it utterly impossible to get it done 
 within the limits of the time that we have set for ourselves. 
 You will remember that I told you from the outset that I should 
 take no conclusions at second-hand, but should express my opin- 
 ion of every author from my own original study of him. Ob- 
 serve that even if I were willing to compile a book (as Swinton 
 
 97 
 
98 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 or Quackenbos does) out of other people's labors, I could not 
 do this in American literature; for other people have not wrought 
 in this held sufficiently to make their labors available in that 
 way. In Enghsh hterature it is very different; there every 
 period has been traversed by great and sure scholars like Warton, 
 Marsh, Hallam, Morley, Massen, Macaulay, and so on; and 
 by simply reading a few of these authors a clever book fabricator 
 like Swinton could knock together a Survey of English litera- 
 ture without the need of stud3dng directly one solitary author 
 whom he includes in his Survey. But not so in American 
 literature — especially for the period prior to the present century, 
 which may be described as the interior of Africa is on the maps 
 — "unexplored territory." I find almost no help from previous 
 investigators of American literature in the seventeenth and 
 eighteenth centuries; so that even if I were willing to compile 
 my book for you, I could not do it. 
 
 But as I told you from the beginning, this is a sort of work 
 for which I have no respect, and I will not do it; and the only 
 way in which I can write a Survey of American literature is 
 actually to make a survey of it. That I am doing day by day 
 and night by night, with honesty, perseverance, and great joy; 
 and when I get the work done it will be real work and will stand. 
 I take every document into my own hands and read it through 
 critically, and write out in extenso my opinion of it; and when 
 in that way I shall have gone over all the important documents 
 in American literature, it will be easy for me to go back over my 
 own work, and either elaborate it into a full history or compact 
 it into a survey — or both. In fact, both ought to be done, and 
 the latter may as well as not be done first. Now for the upshot: 
 
 1. If on this presentation of the case you would rather have 
 me work up for you the more extended treatise to be called a 
 History — leaving the Survey for after consideration — that I 
 1 am wilhng to do. 
 
 2. But if — as I suppose — you prefer the Survey first 
 and anyhow — leaving the History out of view — then I will 
 keep at the Survey; and will labor faithfully, with might 
 and main, to get it ready for you just so soon as it can be got 
 ready by honest work. But it cannot be finished within the 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 99 
 
 period already named; and, in fact, I cannot fix upon any pre- 
 cise date by which it shall be done. The element of time is 
 unspeakably inferior to the element of thoroughness. It vexes 
 me as I trudge along, to think of a day by which I am bound 
 to reach my journey's end. All that I can say now, after this 
 my first experience in trying to write a book on a stipulation 
 involving time, is that it is impossible for me to be bound by 
 that stipulation. 
 
 3. If, however, you are going to be seriously inconvenienced 
 by this fact, then I offer to dissolve our agreement altogether, 
 and return to you in cash the amount of the books which you 
 have advanced to me on copyright account. I am myself 
 captivated by my task; and though I have felt reluctant to 
 ask you to furnish me with any more books on so distant a 
 prospect, I am compelled to buy a great many more. In fact, 
 at whatever expense, I am bringing to Ann Arbor quite a rare 
 library of originals in American literature. 
 
 Think the matter over; try to understand the conditions 
 of my task; and let me know your decision in your own good 
 time. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 [It was not until March 8, 1878, that this book was com- 
 pleted and in Mr. Putnam's hands. The Survey alluded to was 
 never undertaken.] 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 8 Boylston Place, Boston, August 10, iSyj 
 Dear Jack: 
 
 I have been working like a beaver almost every day since 
 July I. During the first twenty-one days of July I pushed my 
 researches hard at the Historical Society, and went regularly 
 through that immense collection of old treasures. When, 
 overcome by heat and fatigue, and having got in New York 
 all that it could give me, I went to the seaside for a week and 
 made good use of the privilege of doing nothing but eat, sleep, 
 
loo MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 swim, and sit by the beach gulping down that delicious ocean 
 air. I rallied like a wild ass's colt, and at the end of my week, 
 with fresh vigor, started for this place. I am luxuriating in the 
 incomparable literary treasures of the Boston libraries. At 
 this time I am engaged in the Public library, the largest in 
 America. I am all the time making happy discoveries in my 
 department, and though I am not a little homesick, I shall keep 
 on here till my work is done. Having got all that Harvard and 
 Boston can give me, I shall then go for certain rare pickings 
 to some ancient libraries at Worcester and Providence, then 
 to New York, and possibly Philadelphia. By that time I shall 
 have the History of Colonial American literature in my port- 
 folio. . . . 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 MOSE. 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MR. PUTNAM 
 
 Ann Arbor, March 8, i8y8 
 My dear Mr. Putnam: 
 
 Yours is the first eye, besides mine, that has rested on my book 
 as now written, and that you think so well of it is a greater satis- 
 faction to me than I should dare to express. It is an omen to 
 me that the hope and the faith in which I have worked for many 
 years are not ill founded. 
 
 Now to my business, and I know that you will appreciate it 
 if I come to business in a business spirit. I have examined the 
 contract with care and have also submitted its points to some 
 of my colleagues here who are authors of long experience, one 
 with Appleton, another with Harper, another with Little, Brown 
 & Company. With a single unimportant particular I can assent 
 to your propositions therein as I imderstand them. That 
 particular is the matter of postage on the proofs to pass back 
 and forth between us. Perhaps that part of your printed form 
 was to have been struck out; but it seems to me fair that I 
 should pay the postage on what I send to you, and you pay 
 it on what you send to me. Not one of my associates has 
 ever paid more than his half of such expense. 
 
 Another point, but not expressed in your letter: I am willing 
 
 I 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER loi 
 
 to waive all commission on the first thousand; that is, I put in 
 the copy, with all it has cost me in marketable time and in large 
 outlay for books and journeys, etc., while you put in the cost of 
 manufacturing the plates; neither party has any profit; and 
 as I think, and as perhaps you supply, both parties are joint 
 and equal ones in those plates when thus paid for. Otherwise 
 it seems to me that calling our pecuniary investment equal in 
 that transaction (and in the present case, however, mine is 
 much greater than yours) our returns from that investment are 
 not equal, but mine is less than yours. I frankly express this 
 as it strikes me in equity. My friend Professor Cocker, who 
 publishes Greek philosophy and Christianity and Theistic con- 
 ception of the universe through the Harpers, has this ar- 
 rangement with them and by their own proposal. Perhaps 
 this is already your understanding of the case. If so, I think 
 it should be expressed in the contract. But if it be not your 
 understanding of it, please to consider whether mine be not an 
 exceptional instance of authorship, in this — i.e., that the propo- 
 sition of an original historical work like mine involves a pecuniary 
 outlay in the purchase of books and in journeys for the consul- 
 tation of materials (saying nothing of time, which with me is 
 of pecuniary value also) corresponding to your pecuniary outlay 
 in the making of the plates. I do not think that the plates will 
 cost you in cash really more than they will cost me; and that 
 when the sale of the first thousand pays for them I ought to own 
 at least as much of them as you will own. I hope I do not ex- 
 press this too bluntly. If this meets your acceptance, I shall 
 not hesitate to sign the contract amended. In haste, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 17 August, i8y8. Opened a parcel from Put- 
 nam's having within it the prospectus volume of, A history of 
 American literature, making the book seem at last a reality. 
 Shows heading, style of page, paper, type, etc. It giveth me 
 huge satisfaction. I make a fool of myself over it for twenty- 
 four or forty-eight hours. 
 
I02 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ann Arbor, ig September, i8'/8. For more than a month I 
 have been hard at work writing or revising the last eight chap- 
 ters. Yesterday I sent off Chapter XV. This leaves me only 
 three more to do. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 2 October, i8y8. There has just come a telegram 
 from the Putnams announcing that they will adopt a sug- 
 gestion lately made by me for the publication of the book on the 
 colonial time in two volumes instead of one. This saves us from 
 the embarrassment of having a bulky single volume or one on 
 very thin paper. The book will look very handsome in this 
 two-volume form. I am very much elated. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 16 October, i8y8. 3 p. m. I have this moment 
 written the last word in the revised copy of the last chapter 
 of the second volume of my book and shall now fold it and post 
 it to New York. It has taken me twice as long as I expected, 
 and has been very hard work. I thank God for his good help 
 to me in all this long, long labor. For two or three weeks I 
 shall be busy with proof sheets, indexing, etc., but the toil of 
 creation is over. Since my return from New York in August 
 my brain has been more severely worked than ever before in 
 my hfe. But I am marvellously fresh and well. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 5 November, 1878. Tuesday, being Guy Fawkes' 
 day. This morning I sent to the Putnams a telegram announc- 
 ing that my last corrections of plate proofs started toward 
 them yesterday. Thus I have done my last act for the book 
 that is about to be born. I had word from Haven Putnam 
 yesterday that it would appear on Satiu-day of this week. May 
 it be so! I am diverting my impatience by helping Putnam in 
 the wise distribution of copies to newspapers. I have a vast 
 mass of writing to do in promotion of this object. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 103 
 
 Ann Arbor, i March, i8yg. I have this moment finished 
 my first revision of Morley's First sketch of English literature, 
 a work in which I have been incessantly engaged since January 10. 
 It is to be published this spring as a manual for advanced stu- 
 dents. I have cut it all up, rearranged the materials, recomposed 
 the book, and struck out and put in wherever necessary. I 
 have now to revise carefully my own work, and to put in a good 
 deal of new matter for the nineteenth century. I shall not send 
 the material to Sheldon until I hear from Morley, which I ex- 
 pect to do in about three weeks from now. I am going to knock 
 off and read Bleak house for fun. 
 
 LETTER FROM HENRY MORLEY TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 London, 8 Upper Park Road, March 26, i8yg 
 My DEAR Sir: 
 
 I thank you very heartily for the courtesy of your note on 
 the subject of a proposed American edition of my First sketches 
 of English literature. I had heard high fame of your volumes 
 on American literature and hope in a day or two to have them 
 in my hbrary. If the text-book is to be dealt with as you say, 
 I should prefer that it should be recast by a competent fellow- 
 worker like yourself and I will not fetter your discretion with any 
 suggestions whatever upon the subject. My interest in the 
 book is represented by a royalty and I have no reason to be dis- 
 contented with its publishers. If it suited the publishers of the 
 American edition to admit them to partnership in this venture, 
 they say they would be glad to arrange terms and so console 
 themselves for the loss of their American sale, which they have 
 been at some trouble to cultivate. 
 
 And for me, I must be content with the sale in England 
 and what demand remains in America for the original book 
 after your adapted edition — to which I wish every success 
 — may have created some occasional inquiry for it, as possibly 
 it will. 
 
 Any thought of the very slight advantage I have had from 
 the sale of this book in America vanishes before the good hope 
 
I04 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 of aiding — through your help — to a much wider diffusion of 
 the love of literature on your side of the water than could have 
 been possible to me alone. If your publishers make in the way 
 of fee to me any acknowledgment of their use of my book, I 
 shall think them, as the world goes, generous, and if they don't, 
 I shall not revile them. To yourself I can only say that I re- 
 spond with the most unreserved good will to a suggestion made 
 in the best spirit of the fellowship of letters. 
 Believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 Always faithfully yours, 
 
 Henry Morley. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 4 July, i8yg. Ever since the previous record, 
 with a very slight interruption, I have been hard at work on 
 Morley. During April, May, and June was reading proof, which 
 proved unexpectedly laborious, owing to the necessity of trying 
 to verify everything in the book. It was full of inaccuracies, 
 great and small, and I have many times regretted my connection 
 with it. I am very tired and am luxuriating in peace and quiet 
 — reading things I want to. My first rush is for Macaulay. 
 Have begim rereading his entire works in chronological order. 
 I find enjoyment of that wonderful essay on Milton greater than 
 I expected it would be now. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 2 August, i8yg. I am forty-four to-day. Upon 
 the whole, though I have made some mistakes, I am not dissatis- 
 fied with the outcome of the past ten years. My life to-day is 
 peaceful, healthy, busy, and independent. I have beloved ones 
 near me, a delightful home, and every prospect of further use- 
 fulness in my vocation as a writer. Shall I be here ten years 
 from now? Many changes will occur by that time, I ween. I 
 don't feel older, though I am conscious of wider and deeper 
 experiences than ten years ago. My heart is as young and in 
 a less demonstrative way, just as merry. 
 
 Ann Arbor, y August, i8yg. Memorable day in my quiet 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 105 
 
 life. Began work with reference to next volumes of American 
 literature. Taking Drake's American biographical dictionary 
 and starting with letter A, I am going through the book for 
 names that belong between 1765 and 181 5. Each name I will 
 write upon a sheet of paper by itself with appropriate memoranda. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 18 August, i8yg. I copy for my own spiritual 
 nourishment this sentence of Trevelyan's, in his Life and letters of 
 Lord Macaulay, Vol. II, p. 244 : "To sacrifice the accessory to the 
 principal, to plan an extensive and arduous task, and to pursue 
 it without remission and without misgiving, to withstand reso- 
 lutely all counter-attractions whether they come in the shape 
 of distracting pleasures or competing duties — such are the in- 
 dispensable conditions for attaining to that high sustained ex- 
 cellence of artistic performance which in the beautiful words of 
 George Eliot, 'Must be wooed with industrious thought and 
 patient renunciation of small desires.' '' 
 
 Ann Arbor, ig August, iSyg. Last week's Nation contained 
 a spiteful review of my Morley book. It is, however, too 
 shallow and weak to do much harm, except as any utterance 
 in that journal has some force. I am inclined to think that 
 it is inspired by Cassell and Co., who are angry at me, of course. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 21 August, iSyg. Finished Part I of Taylor's 
 Faust. It falls below my expectations as the alleged greatest 
 poem of modern times. I think it far below Lear, Hamlet, Othello, 
 Macbeth, and Paradise lost. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 2g August, iSyg. Read Matthew Arnold's 
 Culture and anarchy — finishing the book. From it I get much 
 help, intellectual and spiritual. It is very suggestive and ser- 
 monal; above all, it is fair, in the main, as an intellectual method. 
 
io6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 and so guides. I must not get beyond the reach of Matthew 
 Arnold's cool Socratic influence even by and by when I plunge 
 into my next volume. 
 
 Ann Arbor, y September, iSyg. Before church read in Genesis. 
 Holy Communion. My spiritual struggle at present is to keep 
 a vivid faith in a real and considerate personal God, in whose 
 all-wise and all-loving mind my life has been minutely planned, 
 so minutely that even all my mistakes are taken into account 
 and have been permitted as a part of the manifold process of 
 discipline and victory in my life. Only in this way can I keep 
 from repenting the past, and tearing my heart upon the prongs 
 of the present, and in this way I am very tranquil and joyous, 
 trusting all to the wise and good Father. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 12 September, iSyg. I have been alarmed at my 
 loss of facihty in reading French and am trying to recover it. I 
 am reading through Otto's Grammar and have begun to try my 
 hand on Sismondi's Litterature du midi de V Europe. 
 
 Ann Arbor, ij October, i8yg. It is almost a year since I left 
 off work on American literature. Since then I have given six 
 months to the dreary labor of revising and publishing my Morley 
 book, and during the past three and a half months I have given 
 myself up to intellectual recreation. I think it is now time to 
 settle down to steady work on my next volume. My plan for 
 the present is to give the time between breakfast and 9 A. m. 
 to French, from 9 to i to American literature. This latter will 
 include not only book's on American literature, but books relating 
 directly to my handling of American literature — e. g., English 
 literature from Pope to Carlyle inclusive; French literature 
 for same space; together with general European and American 
 history for the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 1880— 1881 
 
 Ann Arbor, i January, 1880. I have risen fresh and vigorous 
 for work. The day is of great splendor; just cool enough; the 
 air vibrant with inspiration. I look over the past year with sat- 
 isfaction and gratitude. It has been a good year for steady work. 
 I now regret the six months I gave to the Morley book, which 
 has delayed me just so much time in my labors on American 
 literature, and is not likely to give me what Sheldon promised 
 — a considerable annual income. 
 
 Ann Arbor, February 26, 1880. From 8 130 to 9 read Shake- 
 speare per whim, also Hildreth, end of Vol. II. This is a de- 
 pressing book, and gives me a despair of ever making the entire 
 field of American history attractive, yet I think the fault is in 
 the historian who has capacity to make any history dull. 
 
 Ann Arbor, g March, 1880. I have this morning my first 
 glimpse of a plan for organizing my last volume, 1765- 18 15. 
 First, grasp the idea that it is a period in which poHtical and 
 military struggles are the great trait; that these struggles con- 
 verge on the effort for complete detachment of America from 
 Europe; and that the literature of the time is chiefly an expres- 
 sion of these energies. Then trace this in the several great lines 
 of literary utterance; ballads and other poetry; pamphlets; 
 Doctor Franklin; the great political writers; diarists; letter 
 writers, and historians; theological and religious; pure men 
 of letters. 
 
 107 
 
io8 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ann Arbor, ii March, 1880. At five went to the Zeta Psi 
 house and dined with Remenyi, who gave a concert for the bene- 
 fit of the gymnasium. He is a buffoon and a rattle head; and 
 when afterward I saw his inspired and noble look on the stage, 
 I regretted that I had seen him off it. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 27 March, 1880. From 8:25 to 10, Godwin, Vol. 
 I. This covers the last days of Mary WoUstonecraf t, with whom 
 I am deeply in love. She is another argument for the immor- 
 tality of the soul. I cannot think that so exquisite and heroic 
 a creature could be allowed to pass into nothingness; and I send 
 her word — if any obliging spirit now looks over my shoulder 
 and will carry it — of my desire to make her acquaintance when 
 I get to paradise. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 2g March, 1880. Annual parish meeting this 
 morning. I was chairman. Elected vestryman for second time. 
 In evening Republican caucus of the Fourth ward. Was made 
 delegate to the city convention. 
 
 Ann Arbor, i April, 1880. In evening attended City Repub- 
 lican convention, over which I presided. Benjamin Brown was 
 
 nominated for Mayor against Dr. , after a hard and rather 
 
 bitter struggle. The latter's asinine administration is too much. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 14 April, 1880. To-day to gardening and politics. 
 At twelve the county convention met at court-house for nomi- 
 nating delegates to the state convention at Detroit for May 12. 
 I was made temporary chairman and then permanent chair- 
 man. I made a Httle speech and a bigger one near the close of 
 the meeting. I was also made a delegate to the state convention. 
 The convention was large, harmonious, and resolute. Altogether 
 it was a very pleasurable excitement to me — a real diversion, 
 and instructive too. But I am tired. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 109 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Ann Arbor, April ig, 1880 
 Dear Brother: 
 
 I was the "one delegate" referred to by the Post and Tri- 
 bune reporter of the convention as not declaring himself for 
 Blaine. Even Beal, who is strong for Grant, gave the convention 
 to understand that he is a Blaine man. For myself, every- 
 thing here is so strong for Blaine that there is nothing to 
 be done except to restrain the movement from excesses of state- 
 ment that will be regretted after the nomination takes place. 
 I should willingly work for Blaine if he is nominated, but I 
 prefer Grant. 
 
 My speech before the convention was absolutely impromptu, 
 but I never spoke with better effect in my life; and at the end 
 the foremost men came forward to thank me; and I have heard 
 a great deal from it since. I cannot spare much time; but I 
 intend to do some talking in this district between now and next 
 November. If I had a snug private income to live on I would 
 devote the rest of my life to literature and politics — i. e., to writing 
 American history and to making it. The way into the public 
 eye from this locahty is quite open to a fellow but the money 
 bother is in my way and I shall continue pedagogue. Only it 
 is fun to dip into real hfe once in four years. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 letter from moses coit tyler to major tyler 
 
 Ann Arbor, April 2g, 1880 
 Dear Brother: 
 
 I see that some of the papers are nominating me for 
 delegate at large to the Chicago convention. Of course this is 
 without any suggestion from me ; and I presume it will not amount 
 to anything, since there must be a crowd of active poUticians 
 who want to go and will work for it. Still if I should be appointed 
 I should be very happy to go and see a phase of life quite new 
 to me. 
 
no MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 My object in this writing, however, is to ask you to do some 
 real thinking forme and tell me the result. Since the coimty 
 convention here I have been repeatedly urged by some of our 
 ablest men to go vigorously upon the stump during the next 
 campaign. All the reasons urged for this by one and another 
 I will tell you when I see you. One is that it would add to my 
 reputation a practical and personal element, etc., etc. 
 
 Another, and a more flattering one, is that I could do real 
 service. On my own part, I confess to a very great anxiety about 
 having the Republican party remain in control, and it would 
 inspire me immensely to have the privilege of devoting the whole 
 summer and on into November to work for the cause. If I 
 went into it, I should prepare myself thoroughly and should 
 make as effective speeches as I could. 
 
 But is it best, as a question of my general reputation and 
 standing, as a literary man, etc.? Second, can I afford it? 
 I had planned to work for my next volume all summer. I 
 should have to push these researches over to the following year. 
 This would be a loss to me pecuniarily. Moreover, I couldn't 
 afford to do this speaking without pay, and pretty good pay. 
 Can you tell me how much speakers are paid? If I went into it, 
 I should MHsh to be paid all expenses and to indemnify myself 
 for the pecuniary loss involved in neglecting my book. Could 
 I do it? This is a crude outline of the case. What shall I do? 
 Advise me, not as a politician, but as a brother. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 MOSE. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 14 May, 1880. I returned night before last from 
 Detroit, where I attended the Republican state convention. 
 I have learned a good deal concerning men and things in prac- 
 tical politics, and my present feeling is one of disgust. I don't 
 mean to surrender to this feeling, but to use this recent ex- 
 perience for future guidance. I have made one mistake lately, 
 but it will do me good, even in the suffering I shall endure 
 under it. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER iii 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Cambridge, August i, 1880 
 Dear Brother Jack: 
 
 The above is my post-office address here, although I am 
 not actually writing there now, this being Sunday. I am at 
 my lodgings, 14 Appian Way, near the college. Never in ail 
 my literary expeditions have I been so well situated as I am here. 
 All the literary conveniences are perfect. I have a cool, bright 
 room at the library all to myself, an attendant to wait on me, and 
 all the officers coming to ask every day if they can do anything 
 for me. This old town, too, is a fascinating and beautiful old 
 place, and my quarters are full of rest to me. I reached here 
 only last Thursday and am working like a beaver from 9 A. M. 
 to 5 p. M. and find it less fatiguing than in New York. 
 
 I am glad to see by the Express that you have broken the ice 
 as a speaker, and have done it successfully. I am not surprised 
 that you succeed. Your head is full of ideas in conversation, 
 and it is only necessary for you to form the habit of thinking aloud 
 in the presence of an audience. I was talking this week with 
 R. E. Eraser, one of our best political speakers. He says that in 
 speaking he tries to forget all about oratory and to talk just as 
 he would to his neighbor on the other side of a fence. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Mose. 
 
 Cambridge f 14 Appian Way, 2 August, 1880. I am just start- 
 ing for the library, but pause to record the little fact that I am 
 forty-five years old this day. By George! Moses, this is getting 
 on. Am deeply interested and charmed in my surroundings 
 here. A thousand regrets that I did not know enough to come 
 here in 1853 ! Still, whatever is, is right! Let me try to stick to 
 that. 
 
 Boston, 5 September, 1880. Yesterday morning heard Phillips 
 Brooks give an off-hand address. It was impressive and hearty, 
 but lacked smoothness of utterance, and distinctness or force 
 
112 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 of thought. Doubtless his written sermons are to be heard be- 
 fore judging him. Thus far I am somewhat disappointed in his 
 intellectuahty. I can easily account for his popularity, however. 
 After church I was presented to him. He said to me, "How 
 do you like our meeting-house?" He abounds in tokens of broad 
 churchmanship; invited members of all other denominations to 
 the communion. 
 
 LETTER FROM ANDREW D. WHITE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Berlin, September 14, 1880 
 My DEAR Moses Coit Tyler: 
 
 I write you confidentially on a matter very important to 
 you, to me, and to the institutions with which we are connected. 
 As you are aware, I have tendered my resignation to the trus- 
 tees of Cornell University, and even if they do not accept it before 
 my return they will probably do so at no very distant day after- 
 ward. My whole wish for some time in the past has been to 
 see the university brought into such a condition that might put 
 it into the hands of the right sort of a successor. I think there's 
 but one man who is likely to stand as well with the trustees for 
 the succession as yourself. With me there's no one at present 
 whom I should so much like to see put in my place. ^ It seems to 
 me that you have the very powers required with the possible 
 exception of familiarity with administrative details, which 
 would come later. 
 
 Now may I ask you confidentially, and your answer shall be 
 kept strictly private, how the matter strikes you? The salary 
 would certainly be made attractive to you. The work also 
 would be, I think, what you like, and there are some advantages 
 in the position. Your appointment if made would be well 
 received by the community at large. . . . 
 
 You may say that you prefer the duties of your professorship. 
 That is well; but you have already made a mark in your pro- 
 fessorship and can go on to greater triumphs, even with some 
 administrative duties added, and it is very evident to me that 
 you will have to prepare for administrative work somewhere. 
 Think it over and write me fully and cordially. Your letter shall 
 
 1 
 
 f] 
 
 I 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 113 
 
 be shown to no person, nor shall the existence of this corre- 
 spondence be known unless your own interest shall seem to 
 require it. I remain, 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 Andrew D. White. 
 
 letter from moses coit tyler to major tyler 
 
 Ann Arbor, September 21, 1880 
 Dear Jack: 
 
 I send you this enclosed letter from President White. I 
 have told him in my reply that no human being should know of 
 it except Jeannette and you, and that upon the reticence of you 
 both I can depend. You must not give a hint of it to any mortal 
 creature. It would be very annoying to White and very 
 humiUating to me if, through our means, the thing should be 
 made pubHc. 
 
 Return the letter soon and tell me how it strikes you. I 
 have just written to White discussing the subject on both sides. 
 My great objection is that the position would hinder too much 
 my work as a student and writer of American history. You 
 can't understand my point of view unless you remember 
 that my chief ambition in life is to be — what I have just 
 mentioned. 
 
 No one can do anything great without also giving up some- 
 thing great. I have not decided of course. I am open to con- 
 viction. Advise me like a man and a brother. Of course I 
 realize it is a big thing and altogether the tallest compliment I 
 ever got. Moses. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 21 September, 1880. White's letter kept me 
 awake almost all night. The plan is fascinating; yet my good 
 angel whispers to me to wait, deliberate, move slowly. I have 
 eased myself by writing a long letter to White, talking the thing 
 over with him. The great question is. Can I still be a student 
 and a writer if I take such a position? Will not my time and 
 strength be consumed by executive business, by calls, by cere- 
 mony, by public exigencies? 
 
 i 
 
114 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ann Arbor, 24 September, 1880. My mood this morning is 
 rather less favorable to any break-up of my present life. Here 
 I have things fixed very much to my liking. It seems ungrate- 
 ful to turn away from a life so pleasant and so fitting. During 
 the night I have prayed earnestly for Divine guidance. After all, 
 I must leave it to be settled by providential indications. I 
 put myself into God's hands. I beg Him to give me His light. 
 A letter from John to-night in reply to mine about the Cornell 
 business. He speaks cautiously about it, although he evidently 
 wants me to go. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 5 November, 1880. I had the omens of a very 
 wakeful night; and such it proved. Did not get a wink of sleep 
 until nearly three. I couldn't stop thinking and I feel so weary 
 to-day. It is this peculiarity of mine that makes me feel that 
 it would be suicide for me to undertake the cares of the Cornell 
 presidency. I could do it, if I tried to do it and nothing else, 
 but I feel that the attempt would be the death of my literary 
 hopes. Every day only adds to the conviction that I must stay 
 here; live and die here; make this my home and my grave. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 31 December, 1880. The year closes more sadly 
 than it began. Somehow I feel rather burdened and anxious, 
 and a gloom hangs across the future. Let me try to leave all 
 things in God's hands. All this morning I was at work in the 
 study, partly in revision of a sermon on Manliness to be given in 
 a few weeks in University Hall, and partly on Jonathan Odell. 
 
 On the verge of the New Year, let me feel trust in Him who 
 knows the end from the beginning. What joys and sorrows I 
 may have to record on these pages before the year shall end! 
 I will try to be cheerful, diligent, orderly, and faithful. 
 
 I hope by the end of 1881 my third volume will be far ad- 
 vanced toward completion. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 115 
 
 My heart is drawn toward an occasional service as a preacher. 
 I have talked with the bishop about taking orders, at least 
 deacon's orders. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 26 January, 1881. I began to revise an old sermon 
 on Manliness', the thing took hold of me and I had to write 
 a new one on that subject. I was greatly inspired by the theme, 
 and the preaching of the discourse on Sunday had, I think, a 
 wholesome effect on some hundreds of young men. 
 
 But the reaction for me was very great. After such an effort 
 I am usually exalted in spirits or depressed. In this instance 
 I was depressed horribly. I lay awake nearly all night in ex- 
 treme bitterness of soul; I could have welcomed death. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 8 February, 1881. A big snow-storm rageth. 
 This is a gay old winter. She will go into history. I had bad 
 news from Sheldon and Co. They are not going to pay me 
 decently for my Manual. 
 
 Boston, 16 March, 1881. I saw yesterday at Houghton's, 
 T. B. Aldrich in his new office as editor of the Atlantic. His 
 office looks out on the Park churchyard, full of gravestones. 
 
 Busy all day in revising my Lowell lecture for to-night. Gave 
 it. Better audience than I expected. Was scared at first. 
 My voice disobedient and unnatural. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 2 Mt. Vernon place, Boston, March 24, 1881 
 Dear Brother: 
 
 First of all, my joy over your glorious success. It is 
 good, better, best! 
 
 Second, I am awfully pressed by work and by social distrac- 
 tions, and am nearly ready to drop with fatigue. I am seeing 
 all the big fellows — Longfellow, Winthrop, Phillips Brooks, 
 Howells, Aldrich, Louisa Alcott, E. P. Whipple, etc. 
 
ii6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 My lectures are a real success. I give the last on April i; 
 on April 2 lecture in Providence, on April 5 in New York, and 
 immediately afterward start for home. . . . 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 M. 
 
 Boston, 24 March 1881. Mr. Gilman gave me a reception 
 to-night at his house in Cambridge. Saw the leading gentlemen 
 of the faculty, etc. Remained all night at Mr. Oilman's. Had 
 some confidential talk with Justin Winsor, who expressed deep 
 interest in my coming to Cambridge as professor of American 
 history. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 2g April, 188 1. I had some wakeful hours in 
 bed last night and there came to me a ray of light respecting 
 my third volume. It is that its period, for the sake of unity, 
 should be ended at 1789 instead of 18 15, as I have hitherto pur- 
 posed. I begin to find that the great intellectual movement, 
 begun in 1765, reaches its completion with the inauguration 
 of the National Government under the new Constitution. If 
 this proves to be so, it will quicken my attainment of my present 
 literary object. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 5 May, 1881. My mind is deeply drawn toward 
 preaching. There comes over me a feehng of bitter sorrow that 
 I had not strength enough of body and of character, in 1862, 
 to persist in that noblest of human vocations. Even history 
 writing seems small business compared with ministrations to 
 human souls. Ah! these nineteen years of secular Hfe: the 
 bewilderment of them, the small result, the sin, the frivohty! 
 
 Yet perhaps I shall see the meaning of it all. Meantime 
 I am surrounded by new duties — domestic, literary, professional. 
 As I ran away from the old duties, let me at least be faithful in 
 patient performance of the new ones. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 117 
 
 Ann Arbor, 8 May, 1881. This morning read the service at 
 church, also a sermon by PhiUips Brooks on God the consoler. 
 The air is very sultry, and ever since I am utterly prostrated 
 with fatigue; unspeakably shivered, flattened. One result this 
 surely has for me; it convinces me over again that I have not 
 the physique for a preacher, or a public speaker of any kind. 
 It is really a balm to my conscience, and it steadies me once 
 more in the faith that I am right in my present life, a teacher 
 and a man of letters, a preacher only upon occasion. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 11 May, 1881. Being too, too weary for any 
 work, I have spent all the morning in reading Carlyle's Reminis- 
 cences, about which there is such a pother just now in England. 
 A very pathetic and tragical book. While it prints a gratui- 
 tous mass of asperities, and of small rasping gossip, it is an honest 
 book, and reveals Carlyle as the great, bitter, brave, savage 
 Scotch bear of genius that he was. My Sunday fatigue has been 
 such a blessing to me! It makes me contented to be as I am 
 — without self-chiding. I cannot lead in the tumultuous, 
 oratorical, pubHc hfe of a preacher, without breaking down. 
 I can do most as I am. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 14 May, 1881. Am somewhat upset by this Cor- 
 nell project, and have had hard work in settHng down to my 
 daily task. Had a walk with Frieze. He is anxious to induce 
 me not to go. Thinks sufficient money can be raised here to buy 
 a library of Americana. But it is too late, probably. Had 
 some wakeful hours last night. I earnestly prayed God to give 
 me light upon this grave problem, and my mind became irradi- 
 ated, and for the first time I seemed to see my way to Cornell 
 made luminous. 
 
 In the evening, down town, heard of the resignation in a rage 
 of Senator Conkling and his asociate, T. C. Piatt. A silly busi- 
 
ii8 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 LETTER FROM ANDREW D. WHITE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 American Legation, Berlin, March 7, 1881 
 My Dear Friend: 
 
 Suppose that our trustees establish a professorship of 
 American history and literature at the coming commencement 
 — would you be inclined to accept it? Your answer shall be 
 seen by me alone. There is much reason to hope that our in- 
 creased means will enable us to do this very soon. Give me your 
 views fully on the whole subject. 
 
 The situation would be in many respects attractive. The 
 collection of American books in the university library, includ- 
 ing as it does Sparks's private library as well as those which I 
 have myself brought together, give you much material. Then 
 you could be near the Historical societies of New York and 
 Brooklyn, to say nothing of New England. 
 
 With our present railway communication a new and broader 
 lecture field would be easily open to you. But, best of all, your 
 college work would thus be brought entirely into line with 
 your literary work. Please answer me at your earliest con- 
 venience. I remain. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 A. D. White. 
 
 21 May, 1 88 1. Telegraphed to H. W. Sage my acceptance, 
 in the faith that it is the will of God, and with the earnest prayer 
 for God's blessing on the act. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 6 June, 1881. My resignation was accepted last 
 night. I have had an awful shock to-day. Just as I am fastened 
 to Cornell comes an intimation from President Barnard that 
 there is a vacancy at Columbia and a likely chance for me there. 
 I read the letter at Moore's book store. The cold sweat came out 
 on my body, and I almost reeled in my chair. Seven thousand 
 dollars and New York City. Ugh! This is a trial of my faith in 
 Providence! 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 119 
 
 However I telegraphed and wrote that I could hear anything 
 that President Barnard might have to say; but that if it involved 
 my engagement at Cornell the matter would of course have to 
 be submitted to the trustees. In their hands I should have to 
 leave it. 
 
 I cannot tell Jeannette yet. I wrote of it to John. It is 
 very bitter, bitter, to bear this. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 22 June, 1881. Shipped to Ithaca several cases of 
 books. This means go. Within a day or two have had a won- 
 derfully clear and helpful sense of Christ our Lord as the personal 
 manifestation of God to us, and of making God's friendship 
 real and close. He is the guide of my life; and as I earnestly 
 committed myself to His hands, He will not let me go wrong. 
 My going to Ithaca must be, I think, what He approves, and if 
 so, I can be very glad over it. I am cheered by the very presence 
 of my Master, who can make no mistakes. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 25 June, 1881. This is the last act of writing I 
 shall do in Hillcroft study, a confused and dismantled place. 
 This is sorrowful business. I could not have confronted it had I 
 known what it is. I should not have had the courage to resolve 
 to go away. 
 
 Good-bye, dear old sacred home of my soul, thou cosey study 
 in which I meant to Hve out my life and to be laid in my coffin 
 before my burial. 
 
 Ithaca, I July, 1881. I arrived here at the house of H. W. 
 Sage at about two o'clock. Last Saturday I left home very 
 mournfully. On Tuesday went to Grosse Point to see the Trum- 
 bull papers; went through sixteen boxes of archives and obtained 
 some valuable papers. 
 
120 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Cornell University j July 28 j 1881 
 My dear Brother: 
 
 Am working hard to get ready for my labors here. Every 
 day increases my satisfaction in the change I have made in com- 
 ing to Cornell. I find an indescribable stimulus in the fact of 
 having my professorship in the line of my literary studies. I 
 have ceased almost entirely to think about Columbia. 
 
 I am in the right place for the present. 
 
 I hope you won't be offended at my using my caligraph. I 
 abandon the pen as obsolete. Affectionately, 
 
 MOSE. 
 
 Ithaca, 2 August, 1881. Am forty-six years old to-day, 
 and younger and happier than I was at twenty-six. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y., Oct. 11, 1881 
 My dear Brother: 
 
 I am now in the full drive of class work. I have two public 
 lectures to prepare and give each week. My audiences are large, 
 including many people from the town; and the strain upon me 
 for the preparation is very close. The charm about it is that 
 it is all in the direction of my chosen studies and that it is work 
 that I love. Yet I don't get much time for anything else, 
 especially letters. 
 
 I fully appreciate the information given in your letter of the 
 sixth. If you have seen Putnam since, he will have told you of an 
 important letter lately received by him from President Barnard 
 in which Barnard states his preference for me over any other can- 
 didate, but says that the others are so active in their canvass 
 that unless he is reenforced by my friends he fears he cannot 
 control the result. It is just as I expected. I am not wilHng to 
 go into a campaign of testimonials. I have felt at liberty, how- 
 ever, to write a strong letter to Barnard on the subject; have 
 explained to him why I cannot make an active canvass. . . . 
 
 I am willing to abide the result, and I shall not have a twinge 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 121 
 
 of regret if nothing comes of it for me. My life here has taken 
 a fresh and more attractive start, and I am quite likely to do 
 here as much good work as I should do there. Still the affair 
 will be interesting, so long as there is a possibility of something 
 so brilliant turning up there. 
 
 I make a run out to Michigan the latter part of this week. 
 I am to be ordained at Ann Arbor next Sunday. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 MOSE. 
 
 Ann Arbor, 16 October, 1881. Was ordained deacon this 
 morning by Bishop Harris. Sermon by Bishop of North Caro- 
 lina. In evening I preached a sermon on Pontius Pilate. A 
 day of deep emotion. God accept my unworthy life, and make 
 it less unworthy. . . . 
 
 Ithaca, 24 October, 1881. This morning came from Putnam, 
 Barnard's letter of last Friday informing Putnam of my practi- 
 cal withdrawal. It has given me excitement and regret. I 
 did not realize how near I was to the prize. I infer that the 
 case for me is dashed, and as the consequence of my own act. 
 
 So twice, first by my haste in accepting the call here, and now, 
 secondly, by my sense of duty in writing to Barnard that my ac- 
 ceptance was in doubt, have I thrown away this glittering prize. 
 
 Perhaps, indeed, my subsequent letters may mend the break. 
 I don't much expect it. But it is a real and bitter trial of my 
 faith in Divine Providence. Yet, why? If I lose this election 
 I must regard all these hindering circumstances as providential. 
 I must conclude that God uses my own decisions to baffle my own 
 ambitions that way; that it is His will that I remain here for a 
 time, and that what is His will is best. 
 
 Ah! that last thought is very consoHng to me at this moment. 
 How little I know what is best for me! If I am to be disap- 
 pointed now, doubtless I shall see how good it was for me. 
 God guide my footsteps! 
 
122 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, 25 October, 1881. I went to sleep last night praying 
 that God would direct my ways and make plain to me what is 
 His will; and this morning my first moment of consciousness 
 was bitter with anxiety about the present crisis. Then I prayed 
 most earnestly for the power to trust myself in God's hands, 
 and to be content to let this business end as He wills. I have 
 made mistakes of judgment, but I have tried to do what is honest 
 and right. I have done the best I could do. I have no more 
 to do but to wait for the end, and to be satisfied with it. Surely, 
 whether I go or stay, a vista of glorious action stretches before 
 me. . . . During the morning my spirit was in so much 
 trouble that I cried out in prayer to God for guidance and the 
 peace which comes of trust in Him. In this act I opened the 
 Psalter, and my eye fell on this verse, the sixteenth of the twenty- 
 seventh Psalm, "O tarry thou the Lord's leisure; be strong, and 
 he shall comfort thine heart, and put thou thy trust in the Lord." 
 This brought me unspeakable rest, and I was able to leave all 
 things with God. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Cornell University, October 28, 1881 
 My dear Brother: 
 
 ... If I could tell you the whole case, you would agree 
 with me, I think, that my going to Columbia is not sure to be 
 an advantage to me, as respects the things for which I live. 
 Of course, it has many glittering advantages, but whether these 
 would not take away more than they offer is what I am by no 
 means sure of. I shall accept, if it is offered; but I should do so 
 with many doubts. In this state of mind, it is very easy for me 
 to do what honor requires, to remain passive and wait for the 
 result with serenity. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 MOSE, 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 123 
 
 Ithaca, I November, 1881. In the evening Edward A. Free- 
 man lectured. Crowd. Lecturer had to sit, with his leg up on 
 a foot rest. Audience were pleased. E. A. Freeman is a hard 
 man to talk to, takes no interest in scenery, will not visit 
 Niagara, and has expressed no interest in seeing any par- 
 ticular thing in America except a "township," or a "town- 
 meeting." 
 
 Ithaca, 8 November, 1881. Went to Freeman's lecture, which 
 was dull and tedious to an almost deadly degree. Afterward 
 went to the rectory and met Bishop Huntington for the first 
 time. The Bishop has a refined, noble, and intellectual look; 
 a truly handsome old man, with trustworthiness, solidity of 
 character and attainment stamped upon him. He does not draw 
 my affection as Bishop Harris does; and he impresses me as lack- 
 ing the largest sort of greatness: that which takes a universal 
 and wholesome view, without crotchets. I spoke with him about 
 preaching in Sage Chapel. His answer was disappointing, that 
 President White had appealed to the students to attend for the 
 reason that they could thus hear the greatest pulpit orators in 
 the country; that he had no respect for a system based on such 
 a spirit; that he did not care to be one of a succession of preachers 
 to be talked over and compared like a set of performers. He 
 thought the true way was to have one man come and remain for 
 a series of sermons, and make a continuous impression. 
 
 There is much truth in all this, but it misses the situation. 
 It fails to deal with the facts of the case. I think it illustrates 
 the limitations of his greatness. St. Paul or Luther would not 
 have stopped and pottered over such objections. A great com- 
 mon sense is a trait of the greatest sort of man. I think 
 Bishop H. has thrown away a great opportunity of influence in 
 the university and of swaying its councils. He might have kept 
 it under more positive religious guidance all along. Here is a 
 
124 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 tremendous battery; why should he not capture it for the Great 
 Captain ? 
 
 Ithaca J ly November, 1881. Worked away till 11:25 on the 
 business side of colony planting; and at twelve lectured on the 
 Pilgrim fathers. I have got over all doubt about extemporane- 
 ous lectures. I shall not write any, except as I do so for an ulti- 
 mate literary object — i. e., for a book, etc. 
 
 Ithaca, 31 December, 1881. Am thinking much of the year 
 that is now just coming to an end; a great and tragic year as 
 respects the world; and as respects myself, a year of the great 
 break-up at Hillcroft; a pathetic year, indeed. The effects of 
 this great revolution in my life are not yet apparent. I have 
 acted in humble faith in God's providence, and I beHeve that 
 all has been for the best. A slight mist of uncertainty still 
 covers the situation, for there is a bare possibility of my being 
 called to Columbia. If this should be done, I could not interpret 
 the past year, unless I should have more light. 
 
 I grieve to-night over two or three faults of my life, involving 
 consequences to others, and very dear to me, that are now full 
 of bitterness to my spirit. God forgive me and make me patient. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 1882 
 
 Ithaca, I January, 1882. Sunday morning. I begin the new 
 year with this new book. I have been turning over these blank 
 leaves and trying to peer into the future, which is as blank as 
 they are. Here the future is to write itself. It gives me a 
 sort of awe to ask what these pages are going to contain; what 
 bitter griefs; what successes; whose deaths; what changes in 
 my outward life, and in my little household. Here I am in 
 bleak, sullen old Cascadilla, in my study that is very cosey and 
 pleasant. Where shall I be when I finish the book? Or shall 
 I finish it? 
 
 These, indeed, are rather juvenile sentimentalizings for an 
 old fellow like me. They remind me of some of those gushing 
 and elaborately obvious entries that I used to make in my 
 journals which I wrote twenty-five and thirty years ago, and 
 which I have since had the grace to burn up, as I probably 
 shall dispose of this book. 
 
 Nevertheless, the beginning of a year seems a serious affair, 
 for young or old. I thank God for his goodness to me in all the 
 years that have gone before this; and I reverently implore 
 His presence and blessing through this year that is now but a 
 few hours old. I pray for health and spirits to do my work well; 
 for success inmy imdertakings; for Heaven's guidance, for sub- 
 mission to Heaven's guidance. I pray for blessings on my be- 
 loved wife and daughter and son. 
 
 I have got but Httle done in my book this past year; yet 
 I have been a very busy man; and much of my work will tell 
 
 I2S 
 
126 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 by and by. But I do hope that the end of this year may find me 
 much, very much, nearer the end of my third volume than I 
 am now. 
 
 So, trying to leave all trustfully in the Best Hands, I laimch 
 out into the near future. 
 
 A snow storm is doing its quiet and beautiful work outside. 
 I am very tired and am resting serenely at home. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 January. Have had the best morning for work that 
 I have known in many weeks. Pounding away on lectures on 
 origin and growth of civil government in Virginia. 
 
 In the evening went to a party. Heard a new story about 
 Freeman. He lectured recently at New Haven in his shabby old 
 blouse, with woollen shirt, and so on. After the- lecture an ele- 
 gant reception was given him; ladies and gentlemen in evening 
 dress. A person came in who had not been at the lecture, and 
 didn't know Freeman. He said, "Who is that?" "That," 
 said Lounsbury, "is a Saxon swineherd before the Norman 
 Conquest." This story has been going the rounds wherever 
 Freeman has been; and Professor Bryce, now in this country, 
 promises to take it back to Oxford, where, he says, it will be en- 
 joyed more than anywhere else. Somebody remarked about 
 Lounsbury's mot that that was exactly his (Lounsbury's) old 
 costiune. Mr. , who was there, said: " No, not now. Louns- 
 bury is changed. While he was in college he was dirty in person 
 and dress; and after graduation, when he worked in New York 
 on Appleton's CydopcBdia, he was very shabby in appear- 
 ance." 
 
 Ithaca, January 20. Gave the forenoon till twelve to work 
 on lecture, and then gave the lecture. I was so hoarse that I 
 had nothing but a croak to speak with. 
 
 Had a letter from President Barnard to-day indicating that 
 he has entirely or nearly lost influence with his board of trustees. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 127 
 
 My mind is at last getting into clear light about the meaning, 
 the goodness, and wisdom of that Providence which overruled 
 my course last year — about which I have been in an agony 
 of doubt. It is all coming out well — the best. 
 
 Ithaca, 22 January. Sunday. Remained at home on ac- 
 count of my cold. Read prayers in my room. Wrote letter to 
 Haven Putnam, telling him frankly that I wish my name with- 
 drawn from the Columbia competition, and asking if after all 
 his effort in my behalf he will think my withdrawal ungrateful or 
 unfair. I am sure that he will release me from embarrassment 
 on this account, and on receiving word from him to that effect, 
 I shall notify President Barnard. I feel inexpressible reHef 
 to have done this; it is the deep reason conquering the shallow 
 one. I am glad to have my future freed from the impending 
 possibility of going away from my chosen work here. It is all 
 help toward concentration, solidity, spiritual independence, 
 personal dignity. My spirit sings like a lark, under the joy 
 which this resolution gives me. Everything within me testi- 
 fies that I am doing the right thing — which is always the wise 
 one. All the mystery of the past year is now cleared up. I 
 can see the benign guidance which I have had. I take a great 
 stride in the life of trust. The help of spiritual counsel, and 
 of the Father's control, will seem richer and sweeter than ever. 
 How glad I am to be able to settle down and concentrate myself 
 on American history here. I feel like chanting a Laus Deo. 
 
 /^TTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 152 W. Madison ^ street, Baltimore, February 8, 1882 
 My DEAR Brother: 
 
 I arrived here yesterday to give a course of lectures before 
 the Peabody Institute. Gave first lecture last night. Expect 
 
128 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 to get through next week, Thursday, and to return at once to 
 Ithaca. I am giving here the same lectures that I gave at the 
 Lowell Institute last year. 
 
 As to the Columbia matter, I have had my name absolutely 
 withdrawn, although Barnard and Putnam were sorry to have me 
 do so. They thought my chances were good. But that was 
 what troubled me. I don't want the place. I prefer American 
 history at Cornell to anything else anywhere else. 
 
 Affectionately, M. C. Tyler. 
 
 Ithaca, 26 February. Went to St. John's and heard the Bishop 
 preach. Dined at the rectory with the Bishop, who before 
 dinner privately asked me if he might call on me for Sunday 
 work in cases of emergency. I gave a qualified answer. At 
 dinner he spoke of Baltimore as a place he greatly liked, "be- 
 cause, if I may speak characteristically, it is like Boston." 
 
 He still has the Bostonian's awe of Daniel Webster, and 
 tenderness even for his faults. He told me of one occasion at 
 which Webster was dining with a large party in Washington, of 
 his talking grandly and having great deference paid to him, 
 and near the end of the meal resting his head upon his hand 
 and sinking into a majestic nap. 
 
 The Bishop also told this story of Webster: The latter was 
 retained in a great case in Boston and was to cross-examine and 
 try to break down a witness named Perkins — a man of leisure 
 about town — famous for his coolness and imperturbability. 
 When Webster began, he did it in a stern, Jove-like style. " Now, 
 Mr. Perkins, I want you to tell this court what your business 
 is." This was expected to embarrass him. 
 
 He waited till there was dead silence in the room, and then 
 said significantly, "My principal business is to borrow money, 
 and get my friends to endorse my notes." 
 
 The shot told, but Webster was equal to the occasion. His 
 face relaxed into a benevolent smile, and he said with a gracious 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 129 
 
 sort of irony, "A very honorable but a very arduous occupation, 
 Mr. Perkins." 
 
 Ithaca, 27 February. At half-past two to half-past three, 
 quiz; worst specimen of work that I have had yet. I don't 
 get the work out of these students that I will. 
 
 I have had a surprise to-day. I have taken comfort in think- 
 ing that I was out of the Columbia contest, but Putnam encloses 
 a letter from Dr. F. C. Ewer saying that of the thirty or forty 
 candidates, all are laid aside but two, and the contest now lies 
 between those two, and that one of them is Tyler. I am sorry. 
 This disturbs me. It is a menace to my plans. I fear to be 
 tempted. 
 
 Ithaca J 28 February. Quiz. Dull boys and girls, some of 
 them. On the whole am rather disappointed with my students, 
 less mature, able, and earnest than I expected; don't take hold 
 of work. In the evening read Blaine's oration on Garfield — 
 a happy rehef from the stilted rhetoric of our ordinary American 
 statesman on parade. 
 
 lihaca, 14 March. The New York tribune has a friendly 
 paragraph about me in connection with the Columbia profes- 
 sorship. I sincerely wish the subject were dropped. 
 
 FROM THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE, MARCH I3 
 
 "Professor Moses Coit Tyler, formerly of the University of 
 Michigan, and now professor of American history and literature 
 at Cornell University, has frequently been mentioned as a pos- 
 sible candidate for the long vacant chair of EngKsh literature 
 at Columbia College, and there has in consequence been some 
 speculation regarding his religious creed. It has been said 
 that he is an agnostic. In truth, however, his faith is a very 
 
I30 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 positive one, and he was a few months ago ordained a deacon 
 in the Protestant Episcopal church. He is an indefatigable 
 Hterary worker outside the duties of his professorship, being 
 now engaged in preparing for the press the third volume of his 
 History of American literature, and has recently delivered a 
 course of four lectures on that subject in Baltimore." 
 
 Ithaca, 2$ March. The Tribune this evening brings the news 
 of the death of Longfellow, yesterday, at his home in Cambridge. 
 This is everybody's sorrow. 
 
 Ithaca, 4 April. The Colmnbia trustees yesterday elected 
 Price, of the University of Virginia, as professor of Enghsh. I am 
 profoundly satisfied. The news proves a great disappointment 
 to Jeannette, though, who would love to live in New York. 
 It is better for me to live in the country. 
 
 Ithaca, g April. Dined last night with President Seelye, of 
 Amherst, who preached at the chapel. Heard this story of 
 Lincoln: Some one was talking with President Lincoln, and 
 mixed with his talk a great deal of profanity. Suddenly Lincoln 
 
 broke in: "Mr. , are you an Episcopalian?" "No, Mr. 
 
 President; why did you think so?" "Oh, you swear almost 
 as bad as Seward, and Seward is an Episcopalian, and I didn't 
 know but you might belong to the same church with him." 
 
 Ithaca, 27 April. Great men are passing away this year. 
 Charles Darwin was buried this week in Westminster Abbey. 
 Emerson is now sinking. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 April. The words in the last line above were truer 
 than I knew. News comes that Emerson died last night be- 
 tween eight and nine. 
 
 Ithaca, 7 May. A rumor is circulated to-day of the assassina- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 131 
 
 tion, last night in Dublin, of Lord Frederick Cavendish, the new 
 chief secretary for Ireland. As he represents a new poHcy of 
 concession to Ireland, it seems an unlikely story, and we suspend 
 our faith. 
 
 Ithaca, 8 May. The rumor of the assassination of Lord F. 
 Cavendish is more than confirmed, for the under secretary, 
 Thomas H. Burke, was slain with him, both butchered by 
 knives in the daylight, in the park. It is a ferocious and dra- 
 matic crime, and its effect on Ireland may be miserable. 
 
 Ithaca, ij May. Down town this morning I bought the two 
 new volumes of Bancroft — his History of the constitution. 
 They are perhaps the last living gift of the old historian to the 
 world. 
 
 Ithaca, ig May. One year ago, by the day of the week, Jean- 
 nette and I were received here by the Sages and inspected the 
 university, and I was conquered. The transition has been 
 toilsome and saddening, a great interruption to my book work, 
 but in the long run it promises to be a benefit. I finished Ban- 
 croft to-day. A strong book for an old fellow of eighty-two, 
 but it will be dry reading except for specialists. 
 
 [Owing to a nervous breakdown, the next three months were 
 spent in Europe, as rest from brain work had been urgently 
 advised by the physician.] 
 
 II 
 
 At Sea. Steamboat Egypt, 4 June. We have just had lunch- 
 eon. All the passengers are well; and I begin my daily jot- 
 tings of travel. The voyage thus far has been altogether lovely. 
 On Friday night, as we lay at the dock, the air of our state-rooms 
 was rather close; and there was too much noise for good sleep. 
 
132 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 By 4 A. M. on Saturday morning I heard the stir on deck which 
 denoted that the men were at work. So before five I was up 
 and on deck too. There was all the show of preparation for a 
 voyage — sailors getting the ship ready to move off, carriages 
 coming up and unloading passengers, parcels coming, good-byes, 
 laughter, crying. 
 
 Promptly by six the ship moved quietly out of the slip into 
 the Hudson and down the bay, and out into the sea. She is a 
 grand ship and inspired us all with confidence at sight and we 
 love her and trust her more and more. A far better ship every 
 way — in size, build, power, conveniences, appointments — 
 than any other I was ever on. 
 
 Yesterday being pur first day out, all things were novel and 
 experimental. Passengers were peeping out at one another 
 and finding out who's who; walking about the ship and prying 
 into their mysteries; and for my part I was too tired and drowsy 
 to let my diary begin with the day. I lay in my ship chair, 
 covered with a rug on the deck, and snoozed; now and then 
 walked; ate only four meals; and went to bed just after nine 
 and slept a solid sleep all night. The sHght surrender of the 
 ship to the motion of the water affected me just a little with 
 suspicion; but I have now got used to that. To-day, refreshed 
 by the good sleep of last night, I have walked the deck for miles; 
 I had hoped that there would be a service on board; but the 
 captain, who conducts it, was up all night on account of the 
 fog, and accordingly says he will not have the service. He has 
 not inquired whether there is any clergyman on board, and has 
 not asked me to oflBiciate, and I have not consented to have it 
 proposed to him. 
 
 At Sea, g June. So far I had written last Sunday, when I 
 went on deck. Presently a steward came to me with the cap- 
 tain's compliments and asked me if I would conduct religious 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 133 
 
 services. I cheerfully consented; the prayer books were gath- 
 ered, and I had not gone far when I began to feel sick. The air 
 of the saloon, with the motion of the ship, was too much for me. 
 I had to cut short the service and retire to my state-room, where 
 I promptly paid tribute to the powers of the ocean. 
 
 .Since then we have had a prosperous voyage, no rough weather, 
 yet sufl&cient motion to make me disinclined to writing or reading. 
 
 We have had much rain and fogs; for a day or two after Sunday 
 I could not go to my meals, but had them brought to me on 
 deck. Since then I have felt much better. 
 
 Yesterday we reached mid-ocean and are now on the last 
 half of the voyage, with every prospect of reaching Liverpool by 
 next Tuesday, and Queenstown the day before. Already the 
 passengers are beginning to get their letters ready to mail at that 
 place — and I shall follow their example. Professor Corson is 
 on board. 
 
 I have never travelled with a more delightful companion. 
 He is an inexhaustible source of entertainment. His mind is a 
 magazine of anecdotes and Hterary quotations ; his wit is brilliant ; 
 he has been in gay spirits most of the time; and I have had some 
 of the finest talks with him I ever had with anybody. He 
 quotes Shakespeare or Tennyson by the hour; you mention a 
 word and he has a passage of poetry to quote in which the word 
 occurs; and in critical and speculative thought his conversation 
 is as rich as it is in Hterary reminiscence. Occasionally he gets 
 out of patience with somebody or something on the ship; but 
 his spurts of anger are also brilliant and amusing. 
 
 As regards the passengers as a body, they are not particularly 
 interesting; on the other hand, they are less objectionable than 
 those I have previously crossed with. There are several actors 
 going over for the summer vacation. Neill Burgess, who plays 
 Widow Bedott; a Mrs. Eldredge of the Union Square Theatre — 
 a noisy, comic person — and one or two others. With Colonel 
 
134 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Sprague travels Mr. Ellinwood, the stenographer who has for ( 
 many years reported Beecher's sermons. Besides these, the 
 
 most noticeable people are J. J. Piatt and his wife, both poets i 
 
 and authors and very refined and agreeable people. They are i 
 
 on their way to Cork, with six young children. Mr. Piatt is \ 
 
 newly appointed consul at Cork. Rather a dull place to pick | 
 out for a pair of poets. 
 
 Our second Sunday at Sea, ii June. Nothing special to report 
 since yesterday. We are moving on steadily toward land. The 
 sea-gulls have come out from shore some hundreds of miles to 
 welcome us and to pick up food in the track of our ship. The 
 air is raw and chilly. The sky is filled with clouds. There is 
 some sea on and the ship rolls rather more than it has done 
 before. 
 
 I have decided to stay in Liverpool only a few hours; to go 
 thence to Chester for a day; then to Warwick and Stratford. 
 I feel a greater desire to visit the Shakespeare haunts than any 
 other place out of London. 
 
 While we were in mid-ocean we scarcely saw a ship or, in fact, 
 any object except the tipsy waves. Yesterday morning great 
 excitement was raised by the cry of a sail and presently a full 
 rigged ship passed near us westward; and in a few hours after- 
 ward another. We were as much exhilarated as if a new planet 
 had been discovered. 
 
 June 12. The ship is all excitement and joy. About two 
 hours ago land was seen away off to the northeast of us. I had 
 just got on deck. A small boy ran up eagerly with the news; 
 and a Httle way off a crowd of passengers were eagerly gazing 
 and pointing in the direction of the alleged object. For a 
 while I could not make it out; then it became clear — a hill, 
 then another hill, and a series of them. It is Cape Clear, the 
 southwest point of the island. The sun shines brightly; the 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 135 
 
 wind is fresh; and the ship is spinning gayly along. To add 
 to our pleasure, soon after we saw land a kind whale swam past 
 us, and spouted three or four times — to give us welcome to 
 the Old World. 
 
 We are now counting the hours before we reach Queenstown 
 and Liverpool. The letter bag is ready for letters and I will 
 close this and go on deck. Good-bye, now, all the dear ones 
 across the sea. 
 
 I remember the emotion with which I first caught sight of 
 Europe sixteen years ago. I can't enjoy that sentiment now, 
 or call it back. It is pleasant to look upon Europe once more, 
 but that old sentiment can be had for use only once. Make the 
 most of it, ye youngsters. 
 
 Liverpool, 15 June. We reached dock this morning at about 
 eleven. I greatly enjoyed the sail last night along the Irish 
 coast, and up into St. George's channel and stayed late on deck. 
 
 On coming ashore we had to wait an hour or two to pass the 
 customs officers; and there I found awaiting me a disgusting 
 surprise. The great leather valise which I had delivered to the 
 baggage master to be put into the hold was nowhere to be found. 
 I had with me in the state-room only the smaller valise con- 
 taining my travelling suit and a few necessary articles for the 
 voyage. AU the rest — three suits of clothes, shirts, letters 
 of introduction, etc., etc. — were in the big one. I caused the ship 
 to be searched thoroughly once more, but in vain. To my dis- 
 may, I find myself landed in England without an outfit. What 
 has become of the valise I can't tell. I went to the company's 
 office and made my complaint, and they promised to cable to 
 New York for the valise to be promptly sent on by the next 
 steamer. But I fear lest the bag may have been stolen alto- 
 gether. This bother about the lost bag annoyed me excessively 
 and I talked some tall American talk to the ofiicers of the com- 
 
136 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 pany here; but now that I have done all I can to rectify the 
 misfortune, I am going to take a comic view of the business 
 and have a jolly good time, anyway. I guess I can have fun 
 without those letters of introduction, and without a swallow- 
 tailed coat, and when I come home I may write a book on 
 Seeing Europe with only one shirt. 
 
 London, ly June. Yesterday morning rambled about the 
 streets and at twelve called at the American legation, near 
 Parliament House, and saw one of the secretaries and an old 
 acquaintance of mine. I defer seeing Mr. Lowell until my 
 letters come. 
 
 Then I wandered through Westminster Hall and witnessed 
 proceedings in the several courts. At about half-past two I 
 crossed Westminster bridge, and went to Lambeth Palace, 
 nearby, to attend a meeting in aid of Pere Hyacinthe. This is 
 one of the most ancient buildings in London and I was deeply 
 impressed by my visit to it. For six hundred years it has been 
 the seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury. I arrived early and 
 helped myself to a front seat close to the desk, so that I could 
 look the Archbishop in the eye. Among the bishops and noble- 
 men with whom I soon found myself in close conjunction was 
 Baroness Burdett-Coutts. She was opposite and very near and 
 I had a good chance to study her face. She looks old, is thin 
 and wrinkled, but has a very kind eye, and a gentle, benevolent 
 expression. She came in with Lord Houghton and went out with 
 him. The young man, her husband, was not there. 
 
 London, ig June. Yesterday was a day of great satisfaction 
 to me. At eleven I went to the ancient church of St. Mar- 
 garet's — close to Westminster Abbey. It was built in the time 
 of Edward I. Sir Walter Raleigh and Caxton are buried here. 
 Its rector is Canon Farrar. The church was densely packed 
 and I could only get a footstool in the aisle to sit on. Farrar 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 137 
 
 preached a brilliant, impassioned sermon on Garibaldi. The 
 service was most hearty, quite plain, though choral; the re- 
 sponses like the roar of the ocean. 
 
 London, ig June. I closed a batch of memoranda for home 
 this morning. I was kept in till nearly twelve by writing letters. 
 Then started for the House of Commons, where I was to be at 
 half-past three. Spent the intervening time in rambling through 
 the Covent Garden region, Trafalgar Square, Pall Mall, and 
 Piccadilly. Called at the office of the New York tribune in 
 Bedford street, but did not find Smalley. The region of Pall 
 Mall is that of the great clubs, etc. The tone is immensely 
 aristocratic. I got limch en route. As I was walking through 
 St. James' park I saw the Prince and Princess of Wales pass 
 in their carriage. I caught but a glimpse. 
 
 I got a seat in the strangers' gallery of the House of Commons, 
 half an hour before it was time for the meeting to begin, and 
 had a chance to witness the ceremony of opening — prayers, 
 etc. There was no great debate on, but a session prolonged 
 nearly all night by the dilatory discussion of the Irish bills, 
 by the Irish members. Their object is delay. I heard Gladstone 
 make several little speeches. Sixteen years have told on him. 
 He is still strong and vigorous, but looks like an old man. His 
 voice is not so strong and rich as it used to be. John Bright did 
 not speak, but he was in full view — a robust, elegant, white- 
 haired old man. I was most interested to hear Macaulay's 
 nephew and biographer, Trevelyan, who spoke several times. 
 He is very able. I also heard Sir Charles Dilke, Sir William 
 Harcourt, and Lord Hartington. I remained nearly five hours 
 in the House and then through fatigue in that foul air I came out, 
 leaving the Irish members engaged in worrying the imperial 
 parliament till about four o'clock in the morning. 
 
 It was about half-past eight, and after eating a mutton chop 
 
138 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 I refreshed myself by riding on the top of an omnibus for an 
 hour or two. I rode to London bridge and back again. The 
 sights and sounds of the mighty city, as contemplated at night 
 from the top of an omnibus, are full of interest — amusing, pa- 
 thetic, instructive. I especially rejoice in the chatter of the drivers, 
 cabbies, etc., as they chaff one another and the passers-by. 
 
 On the question of personal manners in the Enghsh Parlia- 
 ment, one finds queer illustrations there. During the debate, 
 for full half an hour, a member sat on the front opposition bench, 
 with his feet upon the clerk's table, his hat on, himself lolling 
 back on the bench, and in full view of the assembled dignity 
 and power of the British empire actually picked his nose with his 
 right forefinger and then carefully examined the end of that 
 finger after each operation. Suppose an EngUsh tourist had 
 seen such a sight in our Congress — what a paragraph it would 
 have made in the book of travels on the rudeness of American 
 manners! I forgot to mention that yesterday Prof. Henry 
 Morley, of University College, London, called on me and left 
 an invitation for me to lunch with him at half-past one at the 
 college. The college is a huge building in Gower street, quite 
 imposing in appearance. I had never seen Morley. He is a 
 bluff, broad-chested, big, hearty Englishman, with rather coarse 
 but kindly features, the digestion of an ox, and an energetic, bust- 
 ling manner. About fifty-five years old. He trotted me all over 
 the college, showing me class rooms, laboratories, museums, 
 etc. They have a dining or lunch room in the college, where 
 many students and professors take their mid-day meal. The 
 college is only about fifty years old; represents the secular 
 principle in education, as opposed to ecclesiastical control of 
 imiversities; is co-educational; is looked down upon by the aris- 
 tocratic and conservative old universities; but is full of life, 
 progress, and power. It has about 2,000 students, some 1,400 
 without the preparatory school. It means for England what 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 139 
 
 Michigan and Cornell mean for America. Morley and I had 
 a nice lunch together and a nice talk, although he is not a free 
 and suggestive talker. He impressed me as being a mind in a 
 constant tumult and hurry, not accurate or orderly, but full of 
 vigor and of noble impulses. After lunch with him I went to 
 the House of Commons at 3:30 p. m., and heard the debate imtil 
 after seven o'clock. It was still on the Irish question, and was 
 carried on chiefly by the Irish members. I was deeply touched 
 by their earnestness and persistence. They stand at bay before 
 the cruel power of EngHsh authority, and they retreat inch by 
 inch, with desperate fighting. There was real pathos in their 
 voices as they spoke; no flippancy, no maHce, but grim and 
 devoted determination to save their country from wrong. These 
 debates have enlightened me much on Irish affairs. During 
 my absence to-day I received the honor of a call from Mr. 
 Lowell. Bowker told me this is a great distinction, as by eti- 
 quette the American minister here does not make calls on his 
 countrymen; and Bowker seemed greatly impressed by the 
 exception in my favor. He said it was, " the leader of American 
 hterature calling on its historian." That was a pleasant com- 
 pliment, to be sure. And that reminds me that I am much en- 
 couraged and gratified in finding in many incidental ways the 
 sort of recognition and reputation my book has acquired among 
 English men of letters. These things no longer affect me as 
 appeals to vanity, but rather as food for courage and strength 
 to do more work. 
 
 London^ 23 June. This day has been noted by two events — 
 a call on James Russell Lowell and a dinner in the evening at 
 the House of Commons with Justin McCarthy. 
 
 I spent the forenoon in roaming about the town, in the Leices- 
 ter Square and Pall Mall region. At about two, I called at 
 the legation in Victoria street. After some delay I was ushered 
 
I40 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 into Lowell's room. My first impression was of the gracefulness 
 and graciousness of the man; his elegance in dress and form; 
 his manly beauty. As he told me, he is sixty- three years old; 
 his dark auburn hair still abundant and rich, just touched with 
 silver and parted in the middle. His whiskers are more whitened. 
 His eyes bright; his whole face mobile, aristocratic, refined. 
 The perfect courtier and man of the world, dashed by scholarship, 
 wit, genius, consciousness of reputation, and success. His voice 
 was very pleasant and sweet; his tones indescribably pleasant, 
 a pronunciation not copied from the English, and as pure and 
 melodious as theirs at the best. His fluency in words perfect, 
 his diction neat, pointed, with merry implications and fine 
 turns. He is an immense success in England, in society and 
 public meetings; petted and flattered like a prince; admired 
 by men and worshipped by women. He has the pick and run 
 of the best society in the kingdom. His manners have the 
 ease, poise, facility, and polish of one who has got used to courts 
 and palaces. I must say I never saw a more perfect gentleman. 
 Indeed, he is too perfect; it would have pleased me better to 
 have found the poet, satirist, and man of letters less worldly, 
 more simple in style. I revere the sturdy dignity and homely 
 simplicity of men like Emerson and Whittier. 
 
 Lowell greeted me most cordially; took my hat, and sat down 
 near me; his face unluckily in the shade, a diplomatic habit 
 perhaps. He began by saying that he was anxious to receive 
 me in his house and to bring some friends there to meet me, 
 but that Mrs. Lowell had just had a fearful relapse and all his 
 domestic arrangements were in abeyance. He said that her 
 trouble was of the brain; that she had been "quite off her head" 
 at Madrid, and now it had come back worse than before. It 
 was a great strain upon him, as she would hardly let any one 
 but him do anything for her; it kept him up nights and constantly 
 by her side. He mentioned some friend — a Countess Somebody — 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 141 
 
 who came yesterday to help him; but Mrs. Lowell snubbed her 
 dreadfully, and wouldn't have her about. Lowell added that 
 he sometimes got so tired that he almost lost self-control. Yes- 
 terday he went into the park for exercise and fresh air; and was 
 so tempted to commit blasphemy that he said" 'Great Diana/ 
 on account of the initial letters, but doubtless the recording 
 angel wrote it down as God Damn." 
 
 He then spoke of the annoyances of his office; and to show 
 that needy Americans in Europe expected him to supply them 
 with money out of his own funds, he read me an abusive letter, 
 just received from a woman who had asked him for fifteen 
 hundred francs to get her luggage with. She wrote from New 
 York and exulted over "the downfall of Lowell," spoke most 
 insultingly of his "snobbish ways," his "cold and fishy eye," 
 etc. He laughed heartily over it. As to the Irish, he said he 
 had done more for them than perhaps any other man could 
 have done; "because I am personally liked by the government, 
 and they tell me they take more from me than they would from 
 any one else." He had been very frank with Bright and Glad- 
 stone; thought the government was really increasing its own 
 troubles by its severity toward the Irish; yet he thought very 
 little of Pamell and the Irish members. Mr. McCarthy has no 
 weight; has gone over to the Parnellists just to keep his seat, 
 although McCarthy was once very moderate. The trouble 
 about the Irish members is that they are not sincere; they talk 
 for effect; and Lowell was assured that some of the very members 
 who in the House are denouncing the Prevention of Crimes bill 
 have gone privately to the members of the administration and 
 said : "For God's sake, pass this bill; we can't keep the peace 
 in Ireland unless you do." He said that some people who de- 
 nounced him " spoke as if I were dependent on this office for my 
 living. I see it stated in American papers that the American 
 government would like me to resign, though they don't care to 
 
142 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 take the responsibility of removing me. Of course, I can't 
 resign under fire. In fact, when I want to go home I don't 
 quite see how I am to do it. The government won't remove 
 me; and I won't resign." 
 
 He said that the social pressure upon him was very great; 
 he could dine out nearly every day; and when Professor Child 
 wrote to scold him awhile ago for not writing any more to his 
 friends at home, he counted his notes and letters for that very- 
 day and found that he had fifty to answer. 
 
 I told him that I was proud to have him in England, but in 
 the interests of hterature I wanted him to come home soon — 
 for I felt sure he could not write in England. He said he could 
 not. He thought he had made two great mistakes in his life. 
 One was in taking a professorship, that had drawn him away 
 from Hterary production to certain fines of special research. I 
 understood him to mean that he would have written more poetry, 
 would have been more of a creator and less of a scholar, if he had 
 not taken the professorship. The other mistake was in going 
 as minister to Spain. He had hoped to see and know Spain 
 well and to do something about Don Quixote. He had great 
 opportunities there; and thought he had got ready to write 
 about Don Quixote but could not till he went home. Of course, 
 his coming to England was a promotion, was very delightful, 
 personally, but it took away all command of his time and he 
 should never get any work done here. 
 
 I was sorry to see in him traces of distrust of his own country, in 
 this way. He said: "My dear Mr. Tyler, in America it is men 
 like you who have not the least influence. The country is ruled 
 by low demagogues." I saw too that he must have surrendered 
 somewhat to the tone of Engfish aristocratic society — in his 
 doubts about American fife, and in his opinion of men and things. 
 
 We chatted about Cornell affairs, Harvard, EngKsh univer- 
 sities, etc. He said that his preference in ediication T^'ar. for 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 143 
 
 the old-fashioned classical training — such as our American 
 colleges were giving a hundred years ago. He spoke very cor- 
 dially of Cornell University and said that he was buying books 
 for his own hbrary with both Cornell and Harvard in his thoughts; 
 and that in his will there would be a provision giving to Har- 
 vard such of the books as it lacked; and the rest to Cornell. 
 
 After my departure from Lowell's I went to the C 's 
 
 for a call; and returned to ParHament House by seven. I was 
 soon met by Justin McCarthy. I fear I must hurry over his 
 talk — much of which was very interesting. He said it was a 
 bitter time for him as an Irish member to be in Parliament; 
 that his course on behalf of his own country had made him 
 many personal enemies among eminent men with whom he 
 had formerly been on intimate terms; that Gladstone was ex- 
 tremely bitter to him in debate; both Gladstone and Bright 
 would no longer speak to him if they met him in the street. 
 In general, the Irish members now were tabooed socially. 
 
 London, 2q June. Several days ago I had a note from James 
 Russell Lowell inviting me to breakfast with him at ten to-day, 
 and promising to invite some pleasant friends to meet me. No 
 compliment could have been more marked, since he called to- 
 gether some of the most famous Uterary men in England ex- 
 pressly to meet me. Of course I did not decline. I reached 
 his house. No. 10 Lowndes Square, exactly at the minute. 
 
 I was most interested to see Froude, Leslie Stephen, and 
 Matthew Arnold. With Froude I talked a good deal, a gentle, 
 clear, winsome man, with a rich voice and a rich conversation. 
 He spoke warmly of his American friends, but talked mostly 
 of the Irish trouble. He spoke nobly, said the English for 
 centuries had interfered with Ireland only for the woe and curse 
 of Ireland; that he could really see no solution of the trouble. 
 
 Leslie Stephen, who is Thackeray's son-in-law, and author 
 
144 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 of a great book on the eighteenth century, was dressed in vel- 
 vet morning coat; is about forty-five; refined, sensitive, hesitating; 
 hair parted in the middle; and with an inclination to inspect him- 
 self in the looking-glass which happened to be opposite to him. 
 He was very poHte to me; regretted that my stay in London 
 was so short; wanted me to let him know when I came again. 
 
 Matthew Arnold was the great lion of the feast. I expected 
 to see a small, finical sort of a man. Instead of which I found 
 a tall, athletic, rugged fellow, in splendid health, with sonorous 
 voice, prompt and playful in speech, with an air of conscious 
 success, dark hair and complexion and eyes. Lowell seems 
 very fond of him. I had not much chance to talk with him, as he 
 had to go early. But he came and spoke with me before leaving 
 and expressed a great desire to come to America. I had to de- 
 cline the hope of seeing him here, as this is my last real day in 
 London. If I were to let myself once get started in London 
 engagements I should not get away till August, and I feel 
 that I am now satisfied with London. Have got enough of it; 
 want to get out into the fresh air, to see Oxford and Cambridge 
 and Stratford, and especially Paris and some bits of Germany. 
 I left Lowell's at twelve, walking away with Smalley. He in- 
 vited me to dinner at his house to-morrow, but I had to decline- 
 
 Oxford^ I July. I left London at ten this morning, reached 
 Oxford at about 11.30, and, buying a small guide book, spent the 
 day in wandering about in this most mediaeval city that I have yet 
 been in. I cannot properly describe it on paper. I should write 
 a guide book if I attempted it. I sink fatigued under the weight 
 of the impressive and most beautiful things I have seen — ancient 
 buildings, cloisters, quadrangles, churches, college gardens; 
 a city of colleges with a look of great antiquity; every footstep 
 falling upon a reminiscence of some great man. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 145 
 
 Three letters of introduction are in my pocket but I have 
 presented only one, to the librarian of the Bodleian. He gave 
 me an hour of his time, and went with me carefully over that 
 famous repository of books, 400,000 volumes. I lunched with 
 him and had much talk about Oxford. I shall bring home 
 guide books, maps, and photographs of Oxford; and with some 
 such illustrations I can give you some notion of it. Without 
 this, I cannot. If I were to tell you in detail what I have seen 
 here, it would be for you a mere catalogue of names. But Ox- 
 ford fills the bill! Here lecturing is housed in stately magnifi- 
 cence. I should like to take up my residence here for a few 
 weeks and sink slowly into the life of the place. In one particu- 
 lar it disappoints me: the country here is flat and low; portions 
 of the place are under water every spring; and the chmate is 
 said to be rather relaxing and bilious. It was a sort of comfort 
 to hear it said that there is malaria even in Oxford. 
 
 5 Maid's Causeway, Cambridge, 5 July. Isn't this a funny 
 place to be in? I came yesterday to Cambridge and took 
 lodgings in this house. The common people speak a peculiar 
 English here. On my search for this street yesterday I met a 
 maid pushing a perambulator, and thought she was the right 
 person to ask for the locaHty of the Maid's Causeway. She 
 replied, "Go straight (pronounced strite) on, and you'll find 
 it up." This is a queer old place, not so majestic and impressive 
 as Oxford; does not have that mediaeval look. Indeed, the 
 approach into the town is through a quite modern street, but 
 some of the names of old streets and commons here are very 
 peculiar. Besides the one I lodge in, is: "Bandy Leg Walk," 
 "Christ's Place," and "Jesus Lane"; they call "Caius College" 
 "Keys"; "St. Catherine" is "Cats"; "Magdalen" is "Maud- 
 lin." I find so much to see and learn here that I shall probably 
 stay until Friday morning. 
 
146 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Young Mr. , who took his degree in June at St. Peter's 
 
 College, is spending the summer here. I called upon him the 
 first thing, as he had invited me to lodge in the college. There 
 was some technical di£&culty about it, and I did not accept the 
 invitation. After lunch he came to see me, and devoted him- 
 self to my entertainment during the afternoon. Young 
 
 is very tall, and has the lumbering ways of a young English- 
 man. I appreciated his kind purpose in guiding me about, but 
 could have got on better alone with my map and guide book. 
 He has lived here three years and does not seem to know any- 
 thing about the university except the merest trash. I found 
 him eminently uninteresting and unprofitable and couldn't 
 imagine how a man who could take a degree here could have so 
 little to show for it. 
 
 Cambridge, 6 July. I marched forth alone this morning and 
 began with the beginning of the guide book and walked steadily 
 on, house by house, till one o'clock. I enjoyed it immensely. 
 I could go fast or slow as suited; and in some of the old quad- 
 rangles and college gardens I sat a good while and took in the 
 spirit of them. The two colleges which impressed me most are 
 Queen's and King's. The former has some buildings of the fif- 
 teenth century. I saw the tower in which Erasmus lived, 
 and the walk in the garden between the rows of trees which was 
 his favorite walk. King's College, which was begun in the fiif- 
 teenth century, is a magnificent college in lands, gardens, and 
 buildings. Its chapel is the great architectural pride of Cam- 
 bridge; and I was more impressed by it than any other church 
 I have yet seen in England, except St. Paul's. I went into the 
 tower and upon the high roof, and got a view of the town and 
 the country about. The whole region is flat, indeed mostly 
 marshy and low; and the people have suffered for ages from 
 fever and ague. Within the last fifty years the marshes have 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 147 
 
 been considerably drained, and the evil has greatly diminished. 
 Still, I am told, both here and at Oxford the site is so low that it 
 is flooded by the rivers nearly every spring; and in both places 
 many people find the cKmate biHous and relaxing. All this 
 seems to me famihar language with reference to a university 
 town. 
 
 My morning's steady walking left me ready to have a snooze 
 after dinner and I enjoyed the privilege to my heart's content. 
 Then I pushed out alone for another campaign with my guide 
 book; and at five went to dine with the fellows of St. Peter's 
 
 College in their hall. The senior fellow is a Mr. D , 
 
 who had sent the invitation through young . He was 
 
 dressed in cap and gown; and with him was the chaplain, 
 
 Mr. A , in ditto. Each of these colleges has its own 
 
 hall, where members of the college board; the students 
 at tables along the length of the room, the fellows at tables 
 on a dais at the end of the hall — like the old barons and their 
 retainers. All are in gowns; and there is much pomp and cere- 
 mony. A Latin grace before meat is said usually by one of the 
 students; or, rather, it is read from a card kept for the purpose. 
 Being vacation, the hall this evening had but few in it. It is 
 a stately room, hung with old portraits of famous graduates 
 of the college. After dinner we adjourned to the combination 
 room, as they call the college parlor. This is also in every 
 college and is the official reception room, in all the colleges 
 limited to the use of the master and fellows, and fitted and 
 adorned with great elegance. This room at St. Peter's is a grand 
 affair, about four centuries old, but restored in recent times, 
 with painted windows, elaborately carved wood-work, etc. In 
 the ancient building which contains this room and above the 
 
 room Mr. D has his chambers. He took us through them. 
 
 Two large parlors and a bedroom with quaint passages and 
 old closets, constituted his suite. Mr. D is a Scotchman 
 
148 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 of about thirty. I could understand the charm of this life of 
 an English college fellow. Yet with all its dignity and repose, 
 and its leisure for study, the fellows have not been contented; 
 for as these institutions were of ecclesiastical origin, celibacy 
 has been imposed upon the fellows. If they married they lost 
 their fellowships, and had to go out into the world and earn 
 their living. Within the past year, by act of Parliament, this 
 restriction has been taken off; and it is a funny fact that forty 
 fellows are to be married this vacation. There is great mirth 
 on the subject in Cambridge. Poor fellows! Some of them 
 have been engaged five, ten, or fifteen years, waiting for some 
 other promotion. At last ParHament comes to their rehef, 
 and to the relief of forty long-suffering damsels. I enjoyed 
 
 talking with Mr. D , sitting in that ancient college, looking 
 
 out upon its exquisite garden — a place seeming too peaceful 
 for this stormy world. He told us all about their rules and 
 customs and methods, and I peppered him with many questions. 
 
 Cambridge, 8 July. Up at 6.30 this morning, breakfast at 
 7, and at 8.15 took the train for Ely, where, en route for Coventry, 
 I wished to inspect the ancient cathedral. It is only a few miles 
 off. The road goes through a district of marshes or, rather, of 
 what were marshes, but has been reclaimed by drainage and is 
 now a most fertile country, lying flat like an Illinois prairie; 
 in all directions windmills waving their huge arms against the 
 sky. I left my bag at the station and sauntered at leisure 
 up the winding streets of this ancient and serene old town. 
 Everything looked at least a thousand years old. I have drunk 
 deep of the sentiment of antiquity here. Words cannot tell 
 how venerable it seems; this spot has been the seat of a nunnery 
 and a church since at least the seventh century. Here are 
 houses still used by ecclesiastics connected with the cathedral — 
 which houses were parts of a monastery founded by King Edgar 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 149 
 
 in 970. But the cathedral! It surpasses all I have yet seen 
 in this world in architectural impressiveness. Its foundations 
 were laid in 1083; it was two or three hundred years in building; 
 it has been recently restored; and it is a magnificent example 
 of mediaeval genius, reverence, taste, and devout magnificence. 
 
 At about one I left Ely for Peterboro, the seat of another 
 cathedral, but inferior to this of Ely. I was advised that an 
 exterior view was all that I should require, and that I took 
 hastily along with a bite of veal pie, and caught the next train 
 for Coventry. My mind was too full of the cathedral of Ely 
 to be tolerant of the sight of any other cathedral; and by com- 
 parison that of Peterboro seems commonplace. Soon after 
 leaving Peterboro, the country began to lose its level look, and 
 to grow more undulating; and by the time we got into Worces- 
 tershire it had become very beautiful. I suppose it may be due 
 to the glory which Shakespeare sheds upon everything with 
 which he had to do; but this his native country seems to me 
 the most delightful, picturesque, and exhilarating part of England. 
 
 Although Coventry is not a fashionable resort, it is a most 
 charming old nook, with a good deal of modern improvement 
 and enterprise; a great place for making ribbons, watches, 
 and bicycles and tricycles, etc. Its goddess is Lady Godiva, 
 and very largely on her account and Peeping Tom's I decided to 
 make this my resting place for the night. There are two images 
 of Peeping Tom, at two different corner hotels. He is a most 
 villainous looking scoundrel in both cases. I am staying at 
 the Craven Arms Inn, a delightful, old cosey nest, once called 
 the White Bear — and looks old enough to have accommodated 
 Alfred the Great. 
 
 Leamington, g July. Last night I slept at the Craven Anns, 
 Coventry, and had the longest and best sleep I remember to 
 have had in years. I was beautifully hungry and tuckered out; 
 
ISO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 and, having got my dinner, I went to bed in broad daylight — i. e., 
 about eight o'clock — for the sun here is not down by that time. 
 Ah! how I slept, on and on and on, till nearly eight this morning, 
 a deep, soul- comforting sleep, and got up feeling as fresh as a 
 giant, or the Biblical bridegroom. 
 
 I took two or three hours to explore the town, the three famous 
 churches with those tall spires that Tennyson wrote of in his 
 poem of Lady Godiva; and especially the deeply interesting 
 St. Mary's Hall, a costly edifice built four hundred years ago 
 by the guilds of the town. Here Mary Queen of Scots was 
 shut up for a week or two, and many English kings and queens 
 have been entertained in it. I intended to walk to Kenilworth, 
 but, as the day proved rainy, I decided to come by rail to Leam- 
 ington, take lodgings here, and make this a centre for my pedes- 
 trian excursions to Kenilworth, Warwick Castle, Stratford, 
 etc. Leamington is about in the centre between all these places 
 and not more than ten miles from any of them. I got here at 
 about one, and after getting a general look at the town I hunted 
 
 up lodgings, where I now write, at Miss 's, 12 Russell Terrace. 
 
 She is a nice old maid; her house is as still as Sunday and as 
 clean as wax. I have a parlor and bedroom, and for these and 
 attendance, including the cooking of my meals and the blacking 
 of my boots, I am to pay the outrageous sum of nine shillings 
 per week! A few steps off is the Royal Pump Room, where for 
 one shilling I am supplied every morning with a pint of milk. 
 Here I can repose for a week, in this exhilarating Warwickshire 
 air, and make myself more intimate with Shakespeare's country. 
 I began to get very tired of London. This quiet and clean 
 retreat seems very restful. The air and water and walking and 
 sights will do me heaps of good for a week. 
 
 Leamington, 10 July. It occurred to me last night that I 
 should like to attend church to-day where Shakespeare used to 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 151 
 
 worship and where he is buried. I found that on Sundays there 
 is no train for Stratford until eleven o'clock. So, as it is only 
 ten miles off, I determined to go afoot. This dear old maid, 
 who gives me my cosey home for nine shillings per week, promised 
 to have my breakfast ready by half-past seven. I was up an 
 hour earlier and at the Royal Pump Room at seven to try the 
 waters, which have to be taken before breakfast. First, you 
 swallow half a pint; then walk briskly twenty minutes; then 
 come back and swallow another half pint. The beverage was 
 administered to me by a mild old gentleman with one eye and 
 a predisposition to slight his h's; who blended with the potion 
 much semi-professional advice. I had my breakfast and was 
 off at just ten minutes past eight. The walk lay through the 
 ancient town of Warwick, two miles off, and past the walls 
 of Warwick Castle; and all the way is one of the most famous 
 walks in England. The road is macadamized with a broad side- 
 walk of hard gravel; is Hned with majestic oaks and elms and 
 continuous hedges; with charming views of meadows, forests, 
 quaint old farm cottages with their thatched roofs; here and 
 there a noble mansion half hidden in trees and far-away stretches 
 of hill country. The air was just cool enough; the sun was 
 bright except for occasional rain clouds veiling it, and I felt 
 so well and strong that the walk was a prolonged joy. It is 
 the old, old road between Stratford and Warwick Castle; has 
 been there since the time of Caesar, and very likely hundreds 
 of years before; and I could not help thinking how often Will 
 Shakespeare must have gone back and forth over it, on foot, 
 perhaps in his father's butcher's cart, and later in his own pros- 
 perous chariot. 
 
 Just at 10:30 I heard the sound of the church bells in Strat- 
 ford; and, tramping into the town for the first time in my life, 
 I walked straight to the old parish church just as the curate 
 was reading the second lesson. It is a large church, noble 
 
152 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 in look, its great tower dating as far back as the twelfth century. 
 The chancel, in which the poet is buried, belongs to the fifteenth 
 century. The nave, older than the chancel, is substantially 
 unchanged since Shakespeare's time. It is lofty and large, 
 and here again — as everywhere else that I have been — it 
 was full of worshippers, who took an earnest and hearty part 
 in the service. I looked curiously about the congregation to 
 see what they were like, and found them a wholesome, thrifty 
 people, but plain, not specially intellectual; rather like well- 
 fed country folk and trading villagers. As I entered the town 
 I looked with interest at the children by the way, thinking that 
 in each I saw a young WilHam Shakespeare — or what he was 
 like at the same age. Almost the first one I thus looked at re- 
 sented my admiration by making saucy faces at me, a touch 
 of nature that gave me a sense of kinship. At church it was 
 delightful to feel immediately at home in the rendering by stran- 
 gers of the noble service of common prayer; and to be able 
 to drop into my place and to adjust myself to the situation as 
 easily as if I had always Hved there. After church I lingered 
 to look around the edifice, and soon saw half a dozen obvious 
 Americans doing the same thing. The vicar courteously in- 
 vited me to enter the chancel; and I stood for the first time upon 
 the grave of Shakespeare, with its marble curse against disturb- 
 ance, and beneath that bust which is the most authentic image 
 of him which we have. I shall not try to describe my awe. 
 Leaving the church, I wandered at my leisure round the little 
 city, taking in its features, especially going slowly by the poet's 
 birthplace, his old school-house, and the place where he died. 
 Just opposite the latter is the ancient Falcon Inn, where he 
 is said to have been fond of sitting with his friends and neigh- 
 bors, and there I went for dinner. I waited for dinner in the 
 smoking room, and dined in the coffee room upstairs. To the 
 former I returned and snoozed and rested in one of the old 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 153 
 
 chairs close by the window which opens toward Shakespeare's 
 home just across the narrow street. Where I sat unquestion- 
 ably he had sat and smoked and drank ale hundreds of times. 
 I must leave you to imagine the sentiment of all this. 
 
 After a good rest I sauntered out and walked slowly 
 around the principal streets again; looked through the fence 
 upon Shakespeare's garden; and by the old lane along which 
 he must have walked, I went down to the Avon, a little way 
 back of his home. I found a quiet place close by the shore, and, 
 being tired, there I lay down for an hour, watching the river 
 and the lovely low meadow on the side of it, and up the river 
 through the arches of the old stone bridge that most picturesquely 
 spans the Avon — a bridge built in the fifteenth century. Many 
 a time he must have come to that same quiet spot and found 
 rest for body and soul there. And the river is very peaceful; 
 not wider than the Huron, but deeper, and slower in movement; 
 not a "silvery river," as Mary Cowden Clarke calls it, but turbid, 
 even dull and muddy. Yet it is the Avon. And an odd thing 
 happened to me there. While I lay, resting my head on my 
 right hand and looking dreamily out of half-shut eyes along the 
 river up under those arches perhaps a quarter of a mile from 
 me, and was thinking of the poet's identification with this 
 little river, and how he was called "the sweet Swan of Avon" — 
 suddenly, away off beyond those arches, I saw a graceful white 
 swan sail out into the river, and stop there in the right place, and 
 then one more; not a duck, mind you, nor a goose, but a 
 genuine white swan; yea, brethren and sisters, and two of 
 them. How is that for a coincidence? 
 
 After a while I got up and wandered slowly in the old church- 
 yard, reading the inscriptions on the mossy gravestones, and 
 finding the Burbages, and Ardens, and other Shakespearean 
 names. Most visitors rush through this place, get a few ghmpses, 
 and run. I enjoy the leisurely way in which I am doing it. 
 
154 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 I don't expect to see all to-day, but to take in the situation and 
 come again several times during my stay in the neighborhood. 
 So I can let the feeling of the place soak in and fructify. 
 
 At seven o'clock I took a train back to Leamington. My 
 gentle old maid welcomed me home to a nice, hearty supper of 
 mutton chops, and brown bread and fresh milk — real War- 
 wickshire milk and butter — and I went early to bed and rested 
 eleven good hours. Amen and encore. 
 
 Leamington, 12 July. After a couple of hours spent in writing, 
 I started out on my day's tramp, which was devoted to Warwick 
 Castle and the old town near it. It lies only two miles from 
 Leamington. I took the old road as it is called, winding through 
 trees Hned with houses, broad and clean, with a good sidewalk 
 and frequent benches for pedestrians. Within half a mile of 
 the castle I caught a good view of its huge baronial towers 
 rising grimly on a height above the tops of the trees and looking 
 down on the Avon, which washes the rocks at the base of the 
 castle. It fully realized my conception of what the castle of 
 the great king-maker, Warwick, should be. It is one of the 
 great sights of England, and thousands of tourists visit it every 
 year. I imagine that there are not many mediaeval castles in 
 England that are kept up in good preservation. The present 
 earl is immensely rich, and resides here several months in the 
 year. During such times strangers are not admitted. But 
 when he and his family are away it is a regular show business, 
 and the servants must derive a fine income from the fees re- 
 ceived from the throng of visitors. A large party had gone in 
 just ahead of me, but the porter at the lodge told me that if 
 I would hurry up I could overtake them. I advanced rapidly 
 through several rods of road cut through the rock — along which 
 kings and queens and barons and squatter sovereigns have walked. 
 At the end of this I came out upon a lawn. At my left was the 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 155 
 
 old Caesar's tower, beneath which was and is the dungeon. In 
 front and at my right were arranged several huge structures 
 of solid stone — looking for all the world just like the baronial 
 castles in picture books. Not being much accustomed to such 
 places, I didn't know exactly which way to go. I saw no one, 
 except a majestic person in a front window, whom I should have 
 taken for the earl himself if I had not known he was away from 
 home. So I again advanced in an unabashed American manner 
 to the door nearest the majestic person, who came before I 
 could ring, and who turned out to be the door porter. It is 
 seldom, perhaps, that even college professors have so wise a 
 look. He invited me in, dMn't say anything about the earl 
 being sorry that he was not there to give me the hospitahties 
 of the castle, but repeated the injunction to hurry up, which I 
 did. A party — largely of Americans — was soon overtaken, 
 guided by a young woman with a wand in her hand, with which 
 she pointed at tables, chairs, pictures, busts, etc., etc., and Tre- 
 cited her piece. Tourists are only shoVn the rooms of state, 
 not the private and domestic apartments of the house; but 
 what we saw was literally magnificent for cost, beauty, and his- 
 torical associations — e. g., the superb bedroom in which Queen 
 Anne slept, with the very bed, and even her traveUing 
 trunk. Perhaps the latter may have been detained to pay 
 for lodgings, but it was not. As I had not been shown the first 
 two rooms, the countess or duchess who guided the party kindly 
 invited me to stop after the crowd had gone to have a nice, quiet 
 time with her alone. I accepted her invitation and we two 
 wandered through those two rooms in a chatty and leisurely 
 way, and I rewarded her with two sixpences on saying adieu. 
 She took them like a person not in the least embarrassed by a 
 pecuniary recognition of her courtesy. I wanted to get a look 
 into the dungeon, but it was too late in the day. The fellow 
 had gone who exhibits that side-show. So by suggestion of 
 
156 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 my fair countess I walked out into the park and saw the earl's 
 garden patch, also his conservatory, in which is kept the great 
 Warwick vase, about three thousand years old (fact). He 
 has a thousand acres for his park and owns vast tracts of lands 
 and houses all about. The scene was stately and remarkably 
 EngHsh. 
 
 The old city of Warwick has grown up during many centuries 
 by the side of the castle. It has a stony, dignified look; crooked, 
 with all sorts of gables and fronts and porches, etc. Remember- 
 ing that this was the birthplace of Walter Savage Landor, 
 I made some inquiries about his houses; but no one had ever 
 heard of him. Two houses were pointed out to me as having 
 been occupied by the Landor family. 
 
 Leamington, ij July. This had been another Shakespeare 
 day. I went over to Stratford this morning and saw the inside 
 of houses that on Sunday I had seen only on the outside, the 
 Birth Place, the Free School, the house at New Place, besides 
 spending a long time in the church near his tomb and image. 
 The parish clerk spent a good deal of time with me and showed 
 me the parish records containing the entry of Shakespeare's 
 baptism in 1564, and of his funeral, in 1616. The effigy or 
 bust at the tomb is much better than I expected from the pic- 
 tures of it, and gives me an idea of the soHdity and power of 
 the man. After seeing all these things at my leisure, I walked 
 out to Shottery, where still stands Anne Hathaway's cottage; 
 and I went and came over the same path through the fields along 
 which the young poet went hundreds of times in the days and 
 nights of his courting. The cottage is in a little hamlet of 
 quaint and antique homes; and the country about is lovely with 
 verdure and the abundance of trees and a quiet pastoral beauty, 
 but would not be celebrated except for the celebrity given it 
 by the wondrous man. As I could not on account of the rain go 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 157 
 
 out to Charlecote — the seat of the Lucy family and of Shake- 
 speare's alleged exploit in deer stealing — I took in-door amuse- 
 ment in Stratford. I had found on the Hsts of voters for this year 
 the name of William Shakespeare; and it occurred to me that 
 I would call upon him and have a talk with him. I found 
 that he lived in Wood street, near the Henley street in which 
 the great WilUam was born; that he was a humble shoemaker, 
 and kept there a small shop. I went in to buy a box of blacking 
 as an excuse; was waited upon by a little girl; presently came 
 in the proprietor — a man of about forty, with large eyes and 
 lips, of medium size, and a plain, uncultivated face. This was 
 William Shakespeare of Stratford-on-Avon in 1882. He seemed 
 very willing to talk and I put him through a thorough catechism. 
 It seems that he belongs to the Shakespeares of Henley-in-Arden, 
 a few miles away. He said there were a good many Shakespeares 
 in the county; one other man in Stratford, who is a tailor and 
 not a voter; one in Henley, who is a barber; and he remembers 
 one — his cousin — who lived at Henley as a young man, but 
 fell into bad company and got to shooting rabbits belonging to 
 the lord of the manor, and in consequence of this had to leave 
 the place for several years. He is now in America. How like 
 that is to the deer-stealing legend of William Shakespeare and 
 his enforced withdrawal from Stratford. I found William Shake- 
 speare to be a dull, ilHterate, but religious, man, a Congregational- 
 ist, and he told me that he had never read any of the writings 
 of his great predecessor and did not even have a copy of them. 
 He supposed they were very good; he had often been urged to 
 buy them; but he already took three religious papers. 
 
 I had much other talk with him, and the contrast between 
 this poor, stupid William Shakespeare and the man who has made 
 the name and place immortal amused me as most startling and 
 grotesque. He said he supposed "the poetry had all run out 
 of the family," and I thought he was right. 
 
158 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 London, 15 July. I came up to London day before yesterday. 
 This has been a day for doing a lot of odd jobs in town in prepa- 
 ration for leaving for the continent next week. One job was 
 to take a good look at the library of the British Museum, partly 
 for the sake of old times and memories, but chiefly with a view 
 of ascertaining how much they have in Americana that I shall 
 need before finishing my third volume. For though I took my 
 lodgings near the museum, I have had such a disinclination to 
 touch or look at books that I have not once been in since I came 
 to town. My letter was to Mr. BuUen, the second highest 
 officer in the library. In the old days I had never sought any 
 introductions to the officers, and had never taken a look in the 
 rooms behind or around the great circular reading rooms. To- 
 day my letter admitted me to all those mysteries. Mr. BuUen 
 received me behind all those intrenchments, and after some 
 chat gave me in charge of a lieutenant who was to show me all 
 over the place from top to bottom. The library numbers now 
 a million and a quarter of volumes, and increases at the rate 
 of forty thousand volumes per year. It is a monster to manage. 
 I was much interested to see how they do it; and thought their 
 methods were not in all respects equal to those at Harvard. 
 My deepest interest was in the old reading room where I spent 
 so many weeks and months. The old place did not seem to 
 have changed at all. I was told that there were sittings for about 
 as many more readers, but this made no noticeable difference 
 in its appearance. After a good look about, I went to the great 
 volumes of the catalogue, and looked out a number of test 
 names in Americana, not finding much that I could not get in 
 America, perhaps nothing. However, my inspection was not 
 exhaustive. The chief officer in the room greeted me very 
 cordially, saying that he had heard that I was coming, and had 
 been on the lookout for me for several weeks. He and the 
 officers offered me every possible privilege when I should get 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 159 
 
 ready to come there for work — if I need to do so. It rather 
 gratified me to find four pages of the catalogue devoted to 
 my name, with spaces left for future insertions. They have 
 two copies of the American literature and several pamphlets 
 of mine. 
 
 Another thing that I had put off to a more convenient season 
 was a visit to Westminster Abbey. On the way there I took 
 a look at St. Stephen's Chapel in Westminster Hall, a very 
 ancient crypt which has been gorgeously restored since I was 
 in England before. It is very beautiful and interesting. On 
 entering the Abbey I found the east transept filled with people 
 and the usual daily three o'clock service going on. I sat down 
 and rested awhile, listening to the delicious music with which 
 the service is rendered in that noble place. I also saw and heard 
 Canon Farrar reading the lessons; and in my great comfort 
 I sank into a gentle nap which much refreshed me. After 
 the service I went systematically over the whole Abbey exclu- 
 sive of the chapels — that is, I visited the portion to which the 
 pubHc are admitted without the guide nuisance. I devoted 
 myself to the more famous tombs and monuments, and to the 
 restorations of the Abbey, the superb painted windows, and to 
 a contemplation of the general effect of the whole interior as a 
 magnificent piece of church architecture. In the latter respect 
 it impressed me deeply. It is like the infinite sky in its sugges- 
 tion of immensity and of aspiration, to say nothing of the power 
 of mere age — venerableness — in awing us. As a repository 
 of famous dead men it touched me less than it used to do. 
 And, indeed, I find that I am in many ways less impressionable 
 than I was sixteen years ago. England does not seem to me 
 such a garden, such a paradise of rural beauty, as it did; and the 
 haughtiness of London, its pomp, wealth, splendor, great palaces, 
 and all that, do not weigh upon me — intimidate me as formerly. 
 I think I like England as well perhaps. Certainly I respect its 
 
i6o MOSES COIT TYLER ; 
 
 wonderful civilization, so complex, elaborate, careful, solid, 
 comfortable; but I do not any more lose my heart to it, or my 
 head; both these organs find their great satisfaction in America. 
 I am cured of all lingering desire to live here. 
 
 Paris, ig July. Here I am at last in this splendid city, 
 after all these years of wondering whether it would ever be. 
 I was up this morning between five and six to finish my jottings 
 on England and to pack up. I went to the Victoria Station in 
 ample time to get my larger bag registered through to Paris, 
 whereby it escapes customs examination at Dieppe, but receives 
 that impertinence all the same at Paris. I have enjoyed with 
 great zest the journey from London. I was completely sated 
 with England and longed for a change of scene. The journey 
 from London to Dieppe took from eight to eleven, and I enjoyed 
 it very much. On the channel all that I felt was a sort of unusual 
 solemnity, with a strong desire to lie down and sleep. I stretched 
 myself out on a piece of canvas on deck, and slept Uke a boiled 
 lobster for more than two hours. When I began it, the English 
 shore was almost out of sight, and land was nowhere else to be 
 seen, and when I woke up the shore of France was in sight. As 
 we drew near Dieppe, and sailed up into its green and winding 
 basin of a harbor, all was so different! I felt that here was a 
 new world. The shock of complete change from England which 
 I desired was granted to me. The docks, houses, shops, people, 
 costumes — all were so funny, so Frenchy, so picture-bookish. 
 We were set on shore near the railroad station. The runners 
 for the hotels shouted and gesticulated wildly, but with so much 
 dramatic and Frenchy Hveliness that I could have believed them 
 doing it to hit off the French by a capital imitation. Little 
 girls and women came to sell us fruit, and they spoke some Eng- 
 lish; they were plain in dress and face, but such manners, such 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER i6i 
 
 enticing smiles, such vivacity! Indeed, I am already delighted 
 with the renowned politeness and grace of this people — such 
 amiability, good humor, facihty! So unlike the stolid English. 
 How they brighten up life and make even common things pretty 
 and charming. The train started out a little after four, and 
 reached Paris in about four hours. The view of Rouen was 
 fine; and all along, especially through Normandy, I was gazing 
 out at the picturesque scenery — the Frenchy houses, and all 
 the queer and pretty combinations of effect in their villages 
 and farms. I did not take a carriage from the station, but having 
 the address of the hotel found my way to it easily. I have taken 
 a little walk along the Paris boulevards. Oh, what Frenchy 
 fun! I never saw in this world such a population of gay, light- 
 hearted, affable, chattering, elegant children in the shape of 
 men and women. Thousands of them sitting out at little tables 
 on the sidewalks, drinking, smoking, laughing — having a 
 Parisian time; a whole family, father, mother, children dining 
 out on the sidewalk in front of their own shop at half-past 
 nine o'clock at night, while ten thousand persons pass and take 
 no notice of them. Ah, this Paris I I am elated with it already 
 to-night. This is a brand-new thing in my life, and ecHpses 
 anything in the way of Ughtness and splendor and metropolitan 
 fascination I ever met in the world. I can begin to understand 
 why Americans flock here and stay; and how dull and sad 
 London seems to them by comparison. 
 
 Paris, 41 Rue de V Arcade, 20 July. I slept very comfortably 
 last night at the hotel, but immediately after breakfast I went 
 out to find lodgings. All Paris seems a louer; and tickets 
 of ^^Appartements meuhUs d louer presentement" met me at 
 almost every step. I had discovered last night that it was not 
 common away from the few EngUsh hotels to find English spoken 
 or understood; and my plunge into the business of finding 
 
i62 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 lodgings confirmed this discovery. No one at any place where 
 I called could understand English; and not a soul of them knew 
 enough to speak French in such a manner that I could under- 
 stand it. I was able to form a French sentence sufficient for 
 my purpose and for theirs; but my trouble came when they 
 began to reply. It was such a torrent of rattle and roll; and 
 in proportion as I looked nonplussed the faster and louder did 
 they jabber. All this made me feel my personal isolation more 
 than I have felt it since I left home; and I determined to go 
 at once to the pension kept by Madame Jounneau and so 
 highly recommended to me. It was not far off. I found her 
 at home, and the sight and sound of her were an unspeakable 
 comfort. A woman of about fifty, slightly gray, refined, lady- 
 like, with a good, motherly look and French politeness, speaking 
 exquisite Enghsh. She welcomed me cordially on Professor 
 
 's letter; showed me a room in the very top of the house, 
 
 which I decided at once to take. I pay for room, board, and 
 attendance, all without extras, $8.50 per week — cheaper 
 than I could live with such board in Boston or New York or 
 Ithaca. She was a godsend to me; so benignant and gentle; 
 a model French lady. I needed to get a lot of information about 
 how to proceed, and she told me everything clearly. At once 
 I brought my bag from the hotel and my larger bag from the 
 station, where it had to be inspected by the customs officers; 
 and at last I could unpack them in my little sky chamber in 
 the midst of Paris. All this took till eleven. I felt rather glad 
 to sit down and write a few letters till (Mjeuner, which comes at 
 half-past twelve. I found it a hearty noon meal, with several 
 courses of meat and fruit and vegetables, with dehcious claret 
 ad libitum standing near you to be taken by every one, as milk 
 is in a farm house in America. 
 
 After this repast, which I greatly relished, I set out on my 
 first daylight tour of exploration in Paris. I felt like a hungry 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 163 
 
 boy with an infinity of gingerbread before him and plenty of 
 time to eat it. Near the Madeleine is a centre for 'busses, and 
 there I took one for Passy, which a hundred years ago was a 
 quiet village in the country, but is now a part of the city. There 
 Franklin hved, and John Adams. It Hes on high ground, and 
 the drive thither and back was along delightful roads and streets. 
 At Passy I walked awhile, and wandered into the outskirts of 
 the Bois de Boulogne, but it had grown dark, and I enjoyed 
 sitting in the sweet, cool air, and hearing the people merrily 
 chatting as they passed by. The sight on the return was grand, 
 riding amid long Hnes of trees, along a height overlooking the 
 Seine and the myriad Hghts of the city, mile after mile of splendor 
 and gayety. The French, too, are so delightful; never surly 
 or dull; always so good humored and light hearted; and if 
 you chance to do them a courtesy they acknowledge it with a 
 grace and affability that make you feel good for hours afterward. 
 Thus in this homeward trip on top of the tram-car a party of 
 two gentlemen and a lady came up. There was not room for 
 them all to sit together; but two sat on one side of me and one 
 on the other. Observing this, I offered to move and give the 
 third room by the other two. Ah! you should have seen their 
 recognitions of it. Their hats rose, they bowed to me, and the 
 "Merci, Monsieur!" from all of them made the surrounding 
 regions musical; I felt as if I were a great hero, a benefactor 
 of the human race, and that these three people were vividly 
 conscious of it. 
 
 Paris, 26 July. I must not forget to say that I spent this 
 afternoon at least an hour in visiting the Palace of Justice near 
 Notre Dame. I went into several of the higher city courts, 
 heard advocates pleading, and watched the proceedings. In 
 the haUs outside the court rooms the advocates in their silk 
 robes and elegant square caps were walking up and down. Their 
 
i64 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 professional costume is more elegant than that of the English 
 barristers. The courts are very dignified, and the rooms are 
 almost gorgeous with frescoes and paintings. I noticed also 
 that in each court room, above and back of the judges, was a 
 large painting of the crucifixion. 
 
 In the evening I went to the Hippodrome. This is one of 
 the great sights of modern Paris; the most enormous assembly 
 room that I ever saw; a gigantic stationary circus, capable of 
 holding ten thousand people. Everything was perfect, even the 
 indecency, of which there was the usual French proportion. I 
 have come to the conclusion that the French people, with all 
 their refinement, have little real modesty or delicacy. That 
 is too sweeping a remark, perhaps, but with some qualifications 
 it is not far from the truth. I never saw anything so laughably 
 shameless as some of the performances were; and besides these 
 were specimens of superlative acrobatics, equestrianism, etc. 
 Still I did think of the hippodromes of Rome in the ages of 
 rottenness and decay. 
 
 Paris, 27 July. I took a rather late breakfast this morning, 
 and, after some writing, walked out to the American legation, 
 more than a mile off, and got there Mr. Morton's personal cards 
 for admission to the Chambre des Deputes, and the Senat. I 
 had been told that it is very hard to get in; but these cards 
 fortunately overcame all difficulties. By half-past one I was 
 crossing the Pont de la Concorde, and found soldiers and citizens 
 in the court leading to the entrance to the Chambre. The 
 building is an old palace of the Prince de Conde, built early in 
 the eighteenth century, was used in the Revolution by the 
 Council of Five Hundred, and during the present centiury has 
 become the classic place for the French Deputies, or Lower 
 House. It is odd that the Upper House, or Senate, should 
 meet in a house more than a mile distant, at the Palace 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 165 
 
 of Luxembourg. My card passed me rapidly from sentinel to 
 sentinel, till I was shown into the Diplomatic gallery, the 
 best place in the house for witnessing the proceedings. It 
 will hold about five hundred members, and there are two tiers 
 of galleries for non-members. The walls and ceilings are richly 
 decorated; the room is made elegant with paintings and statues. 
 The platform in front rises like a high scaffold, by a series of 
 stages, and at the topmost is the speaker's chair and desk. Just 
 in front of him, but lower, is the platform called the Tribune, to 
 which every member comes when he wishes to speak or even to 
 make a motion. All around are secretaries and stenographers. 
 In the circular seats in front are the ministers; to the right 
 of the speaker are the conservative members, such as the Or- 
 leanists, Legitimists, and Bonapartists; in the middle are the 
 moderates; and toward the left, the radicals. By the time I 
 had taken in the situation the members began to come in. At 
 two, a bugle sounded; an official cried, "Monsieur le Presi- 
 dent! "and that official entered and ascended to his throne. 
 There was much noise and chatter; no prayer; and routine 
 business went on almost inaudibly. Soon came speeches by 
 ministers in reply to questions. The most famous speaker was 
 Jules Ferry, who spoke wittily and adroitly, and repeatedly 
 brought down the house. I was interested to see and hear 
 Freycinct, the prime minister, who lately succeeded Gambetta. 
 But the great desire I had was to see Gambetta — the greatest 
 orator and statesman in France. He was called away last week 
 by the death of his mother; only returned to Paris yesterday, 
 and for the first hour he did not come in. At last he came in and 
 took his seat quietly, and was the object of all eyes in the gal- 
 leries; and received constant attention from members, who kept 
 coming to him, and greeting him in a deferential way, with a 
 manner evidently subdued to sympathy with his sorrow, which 
 is very great, for his mother was a remarkable woman and had 
 
i66 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 been his teacher and inspirer, and he loved her very much. 
 After Gambetta entered, the Egyptian question came up, but 
 was at once put off for two days by request of the ministers. 
 This I regretted, as it deprived me of the chance of hearing 
 Gambetta. However, I had a good, long look at him. He 
 looks to be at least fifty, but is not; a man of middle height, 
 thick, bulky, with broad shoulders, short neck, a big head, 
 rather long hair, short whiskers, and only one eye; a man pre- 
 paring for apoplexy; a gross, luxurious, sensual man; nay, a 
 trifle greasy, I thought, but evidently a man of great power 
 of body and mind, a magnetic and passionate man. He is con- 
 scious of his position; received the homage of men like a king. 
 That he is a great orator is certain; that he is a great statesman 
 and administrator has yet to be proved. 
 
 Upon the whole the House of Deputies did not seem to me 
 so great an assemblage — so powerful, manly, business-like, 
 impressive — as the House of Commons, or even our own House 
 of Representatives. They looked and acted like a mob of ex- 
 citable big boys in a great debating club. There was incessant 
 chatter; and the speaker often rang a bell as big as those used 
 for dinner bells in our country taverns; and he pounded with a 
 large paper cutter on the side of his desk; and he kept saying, 
 "Sh," "sh," "sh," all in an impotent, futile way. I could im- 
 agine what a Mirabeau or a Gambetta could do in such a com- 
 bustible assembly. It seemed to me an Athenian or Roman 
 mob, ready to be inflamed by its master orator. 
 
 I was glad to get out of the close, hot air where I had been 
 for two hours and have the long walk eastward along the Boule- 
 vard St. Germain as far as the Rue de Seine, and then south to 
 the Palais de Luxembourg. This is a splendid old palace, full of 
 historic interest, built for Marie de Medici early in the seven- 
 teenth century; a huge affair, consisting of three great portions 
 connected by galleries; said to be after the model of the Pitti 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 167 
 
 palace at Florence; having a stately, old-time, rather faded 
 grandeur; evidently belonging to glories that have departed. 
 Was a royal residence down to the Revolution; then a prison 
 of state, in which many noted persons were shut up, among them 
 Josephine, Danton, Robespierre; the palace of the Directory, 
 then of the Consulate, whence Bonaparte removed to the Tuile- 
 ries. Since then, with various fluctuations, it has been the 
 place for the Upper House, by whatever name called. I entered 
 the ancient stony court; my ticket insured me all courtesy 
 and was soon seated in the Diplomatic gallery. The change 
 from the clamorous mob of the deputies was delightful; a room 
 of great but more quiet magnificence, about the size of our 
 Senate chamber, with fifty or sixty well-dressed elderly gentle- 
 men sitting at their desks reading or writing, or chatting in low 
 voices; an elderly gentleman in the speaker's chair, and an 
 elderly gentleman placidly jabbering French from the Tribune. 
 It was all so pleasant, refined, rational; here business could be 
 done, and measures of state really discussed in a thoughtful 
 way. Yet I am told that this dignified body has but Uttle real 
 weight in French poHtics; not like our Senate, more like the 
 EngHsh House of Peers; an ornamental body of gray-haired 
 and bald-headed old fogies who go through the motions of 
 legislation and imagine they are legislating. I took in all I 
 wanted to get, in less than an hour. 
 
 Paris, 28 July. After dejeuner and a nap I started by half- 
 past two for the Bois de Boulogne, on the top of a 'bus; and 
 on the journey I unexpectedly met with the greatest incident 
 of my visit so far. We had reached a fine new boulevard named 
 Victor Hugo in honor of the old poet, who has for years Hved in 
 it before it was made a boulevard; and we were trundling along, 
 passing a rather plain, old-fashioned house on the right, the driver, 
 with a look of pride and admiration, pointed to an old man 
 
i68 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 seated at an open window in the second story, reading a 
 newspaper, his face partly turned away from the Hght. The 
 driver said no word. His gesture and look were enough. All 
 the passengers knew it was Victor Hugo, and they stared and 
 strained their necks till we had got far past. But that would 
 not do for me; so, sacrificing my fare (not a very heavy tribute — 
 fifteen centimes — three ha'pence), I jumped down and walked 
 back to the house. On the opposite side is a cafe and on the 
 sidewalk is a cosey bench. There I sat down for a full hour — 
 and drank it all in; and that is all that I did drink, although the 
 cafe was there. I had a newspaper with me to give me the air 
 of reading rather than of rude staring. The house is of two 
 stories, with an additional mansard story; door in the middle; 
 close upon the sidewalk; a good, slightly rusty, oldish, comfort- 
 able, genteel mansion. The old fellow sat there, with his back 
 turned, reading the paper. I was in no hurry. I knew he would 
 finish the paper before the day was over, and then get up and 
 turn around and look out. Meantime, I made a study of his 
 back head, left ear, and shoulders; a sturdy, thick person, with 
 short gray hair. Finally he did rise very slowly, as if it was 
 hard work; he limped across the room; then came back to the 
 window with more newspapers in his hand, and looked squarely 
 out for a few minutes, and I confronted Victor Hugo with re- 
 spectful admiration and venerating scrutiny. Then, as if 
 rheumatic, he slowly settled down into his chair, with back 
 partially turned to the pubHc; and thus, when I got ready, 
 I left him. I was interested to note how all persons who passed, 
 rich, especially poor, old, young, gazed at that house and looked 
 up at the splendid old man in the window; all the drivers of 
 cabs and 'buses directed their passengers toward him; a small 
 boy in a blue blouse — perhaps a butcher's boy — rose on tiptoes 
 and looked up; an old man led a little child to the front and 
 pointed up; and so it went on. That old poet and novelist 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 169 
 
 has written himself into the heart of France; the common 
 people worship him; his fame is supreme; and instead of re- 
 ceiving human incense among the Immortals, he is left here in 
 his fine old age to feel every hour and minute the pressure of 
 his immense renown. I can't help noticing how particularly 
 proud and happy the cabmen and other lowly people looked when 
 they gazed at him. That old man was to them the greatest 
 man in the world; he was their friend, the champion of human 
 nature. I doubt if any great poet was ever in more direct 
 contact with his worshippers or had more of them. 
 
 Lucerne, 4 August. I reached here from Basel at about 
 half -past one. Came in a third-class car — good enough for a 
 king or a professor, and cheap, too. I find the advantage of 
 not buying a tourist's ticket, which is never sold for anything 
 lower than second class. The car was like an American car, 
 open at the ends; full of good, sensible people, French, Germans, 
 ItaHans, all of which languages were going on at once. It is 
 interesting to see in Switzerland, which has no language of 
 its own, the influence of the surrounding languages, particularly 
 French and German. I notice that nearly all signs in the streets, 
 like those for the sale or rental of a house, are expressed in the 
 two languages side by side. 
 
 But what a charming place this Lucerne is — inexpressible 
 by this hurrying pencil! I can't half tell you about this place 
 and all I see and enjoy in it. Indeed, now that I have got to 
 these sublime Alps, I am going to give up trying to convey to you 
 any impressions of what I see. I give over to Ruskin and the 
 guide books. Language is beggarly, and I fall every day more 
 and more behind the reality. 
 
 On the Rigi, 6 August. Sunday morning. The highest bit of 
 earth I was ever on before this is the Catskill mountains. At 
 
I70 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 last I have climbed a real mountain, nearly six thousand feet 
 high. I have hugged an Alp. I took the pretty boat from 
 Lucerne at nine. In an hour or more, with half a dozen or 
 more pedestrians, English and German, I began my leisurely 
 stroll into the sky. I did not keep with the others, for I wanted 
 to go up in my own way, and stop and enjoy the scenery as much 
 as I Uked. I reached the highest peak of Rigi at about half- 
 past two in the afternoon. I am just a httle below it now; but 
 it is withm easy reach. I saw the sun go down behind the 
 mountains last night. This morning I was called at about 
 three, and joined a great throng on the Rigi-Kulm, the highest 
 peak, to see the sun rise. It was rather too cloudy to be an en- 
 tire success, but I was well repaid for the early start and the 
 endurance of the morning cold for an hour. I just can't say 
 much about it. The light at dawn was better for clear and re- 
 mote vision than it has been yet; and I had a range of mountain 
 scenery and valley and river and lakes, at least three hundred 
 miles from horizon to horizon. To me most wonderful were 
 the mountain-tops patched with vast masses of snow, the gleam 
 of the awful glaciers, and especially the white, sharp summits 
 of the Bernese Alps, including the Wetterhorn and the Jimgfrau. 
 I got back to the hotel at half-past six and was glad to get some 
 hot coffee and bread and butter. Since then I have been to 
 bed and had my nap out. It is now nearly noon. I am writing 
 this on a board table out on the mountain-side, with such a 
 panorama before and around me as I never even imagined before. 
 The sun is shining warmly down an Alpine valley at my feet. 
 I see away down pretty Swiss cottages and I hear the musical 
 tinkle of the bells upon the cows that are grazing along the slopes. 
 Ah! brethren and sinners, this is a Sunday, a Sunday on the Rigi. 
 I can now imagine how this beautiful world must look from a 
 balloon, a mile up in the sky. On some two sides of this mountain 
 the slope is a steep rock; and we look perpendicularly down 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 171 
 
 upon green fields and villages and lakes and an immense expanse 
 of scenery. 
 
 I see here and there all over the landscape pretty churches. 
 Several times I have heard the sound of their bells. The sound 
 as it reached me at this height was exceedingly sweet and musical. 
 I wonder if the sound of church bells grows sweet as it rises 
 toward the sky. If it is so sweet on the top of Rigi, how delicious 
 it must be when it gets to Heaven! I am sure that is the case, 
 when these bells ring for the assemblage of sincere worshippers. 
 And here, on this stupendous mountain, all thought, all feehng 
 moves toward the infinite and finds expression only in awed 
 silence and in worship that cannot speak. 
 
 Lucerne, 6 August. This morning I was writing from the top 
 of Rigi-Kulm and now I am back again in Lucerne. One pe- 
 cuHarity of moimtain-tops is that they are forever sticking 
 their noses into the passing clouds; and that though you may 
 have radiant sunlight one minute you may be in a dense cloud 
 the next. So it was up there to-day, only the clouds seemed to 
 have so settled themselves around the summit that there was no 
 chance of any further prospect up there for to-day. Neverthe- 
 less I should have remained till to-morrow morning if I had had 
 warm enough clothes. But such clothing as I could bear on me 
 in walking up the mountain was hardly the thing to stay up 
 there in. It was so cold that your very breath vaporized as it 
 left your mouth. I found it impossible this afternoon to keep 
 warm. So very reluctantly I decided to come down to the level 
 of ordinary folks. The walk down to Weggis by the lakeside 
 was, of course, more rapid than the walk up from there had 
 been; but it proved also more trying, especially to the muscles 
 of my legs. I rested for an hour and a half, until the pretty 
 steamer should come to take me to Lucerne, only a few miles 
 off. This Weggis I enjoyed looking about in. It is a simple 
 
172 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Swiss village, impenetrated by Protestantism; and the people 
 get their living chiefly out of passers-by. Two little Swiss 
 girls, about twelve years old, brought their baskets of fruit to 
 me as I sat on a bench under the trees close by the lake, and I 
 had a long talk with them in German. These little girls were 
 really lovely in their simplicity and trustfulness. They opened 
 their eyes when I told them that I was from America. They 
 had seen it on the map and knew it was very far away. When I 
 used some English words they asked me if I could speak English 
 too. I asked them what language they thought the Americans 
 spoke, and they said American. But they had never heard 
 any one speak it. They were perfectly happy to look over the 
 maps and pictures in my Baedeker. One of them ran away a 
 minute and came back with a pink, which she put into my button- 
 hole. When I went away they said "Goot-pye" over and over 
 again very fervently; and I must say their simple, affectionate 
 ways quite charmed me. 
 
 The sail across the lake to Lucerne was just as the sun was 
 gone down back of the mountain peaks; the light all around 
 was such as to make the outhnes very distinct. Especially I 
 had a capital view of grim old Pilatus. 
 
 Interlaken, ly August. This has been a most glorious day — 
 another experience for me — riding in a diligence over the moun- 
 tains for twenty-five miles. I am convinced that this is a most 
 beautiful world to live in and I hope I may Hve long enough to 
 show personally this part of it to my Frau and my son and 
 daughter. Only the sight of it can tell. 
 
 Berne, 8 August. I got up rather late and found myself stiff 
 and lame after my Alpine exercises. My legs feel as if they 
 had been beaten with clubs. The scene is full of brightness, 
 freshness, modern cheer, and gaiety; and this lovely dale would 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 173 
 
 be a restful place to live in for a few weeks if only one had his 
 household gods with him. But I, a lone pilgrim, had no tempta- 
 tion to stay, and so hurried on. 
 
 Vevay, 14 August. I am sitting in the garden of the Hotel 
 d'Angleterre, looking off upon this heavenly lake. Those 
 last words at Berne were written in the railway station. The 
 train soon came and carried me to Lausanne, through a country 
 of not remarkable scenery, but dotted with pretty Swiss chalets. 
 I am charmed with their management of roofs. Even their 
 cow houses and pig pens are picturesque. At Geneva I spent 
 several hours in walking about the place; saw the house in 
 which John Calvin died and in which Rousseau was born; saw 
 near the old cathedral of St. Pierre one street called "Rue 
 d'Enfer," and another called "Rue de Purgatoire"; and a 
 restaurant dedicated "Au bon Diable," and other things more 
 or less amusing. Geneva has a majestic site, fronting the lake, 
 and with a wall of steep mountain rocks behind it, and the white 
 summits of the Mont Blanc group in the farther background. 
 It has noble streets, houses, monuments; an air of dignity and 
 intellectuality almost Bostonian, and a remote hint even of 
 Parisian vivacity. 
 
 I found that I could save a day by taking dihgence for Cha- 
 monix, and just as the sun was going down behind the immense 
 mountains we reached the vale of Chamonix at the foot of Mont 
 Blanc. At five in the morning I was up and saw the sun painting 
 with glory those indescribable mountain peaks. With a party 
 of Dutch and French gentlemen, whom I met at the hotel, I had 
 arranged to join in having a guide for crossing the Mer de Glace. 
 It is well named. Then we reached the opposite side, and 
 clambered down a rocky pass well named Mauvais Pas to a 
 height called Chapeau, and finally by three o'clock in the after- 
 noon got back to our hotel at Chamonix. And at this point 
 
174 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 I made a mistake. I had done enough for the day and should 
 have rested quietly till the next day, but I was persuaded by a 
 very agreeable Dutch professor to join him and his two pupils 
 in a walk to Martigny, over a most rugged and steep mountain 
 called Col de Balme, about thirty miles up and down; and the 
 plan was to start the same afternoon and get as far as Argen- 
 tierre and rest there for the night. I felt exhilarated by the 
 mountain air and foolishly presumed upon my strength. Before 
 I could get to Argentierre I felt my mistake, and that night I 
 was too tired to sleep well; and the next day I began wearily 
 the most difficult physical struggle I ever went through. I 
 climbed the Col de Balme, 7,224 feet high, descended it, and then 
 climbed Col de la Forclaz, 4,997 feet high, and descended that 
 into the beautiful vale of Martigny, along a rocky path, under 
 a burning sun. The last few miles were accomplished in mere 
 desperation. When I reached Martigny I felt exhausted with 
 fatigue and hunger, but I was too tired to eat. I recoiled from 
 food. All day yesterday I kept in bed till about five p. m. 
 Have had a good rest, but have not yet recovered from the stu- 
 pendous blunder of last Friday and Saturday. I feel as if I 
 loathed mountains. I have a positive nausea for them and 
 weariness — it had gone into the middle of all my 205 bones. 
 
 Lausanne, 15 August. The great fatigue has left me after 
 another night's sleep, and I am ready for action once more. 
 But I am really tired of travel — of mountains and cities and 
 ruins and hotels and babble of strange tongues. 
 
 My expectation is to reach Cologne and have it "done" by 
 to-night, to get to London by Saturday night and have two days 
 there for visiting, packing; to reach Liverpool by Tuesday 
 night, and to sail on Wednesday, August 23. This is all I can 
 stand of play and loafing for the present. I have seen the 
 typical things in Europe west of the Italian Alps. I am satiated. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 175 
 
 Nay, to use an untranslatable and incomparable Saxonism — 
 I have got my belly full. I am ready to stop and am anxious 
 to get home again, and settle down to work. 
 
 Indeed, I am as eager now to go home as I was three months 
 ago to come to Europe. I haven't thought much of my college 
 work next year; but whenever I do think of it I wish that 
 I were better prepared for it. Good-bye, darlings. God bless 
 us all and keep us safe whether on land or sea! 
 
 Ithaca, 2 October. Am greatly enjoying my work this year. 
 Spend much more time upon it than ever before. Am getting 
 it well in hand, and have a grip on my classes that I never had 
 before. My new class room is a great comfort and help to me. 
 It is cosey, somewhat like that dear old room I had at Ann Arbor, 
 and will prove more and more so. After lunch had a trial of a 
 horse under the saddle. Liked her very much. It was jolly 
 to be on horseback once more. 
 
 In the evening read in Adams's Randolph and got sleepy over 
 it. It is not a well-sustained production, and, excepting the 
 first two chapters, of no literary merit. 
 
 Ithaca, 12 November. I have had the service at St. John's 
 to-day. It has been a day of solemn and great joy to me. I 
 thought I had divine help in preaching. Ah! this ministering 
 to the souls of men in religion — what a privilege it is ! My heart 
 yearns for it, but my body is so easily tired. I am very tired 
 after to-day's services. But this is Hfe indeed, doing something 
 real. My inmost heart now grieves over my failure to continue 
 in it. God guide me, and help me to do His holy will I 
 
 Baltimore, 12 December. I took limited Washington express 
 at ten, reaching here at about three this afternoon. The kind 
 Joel Benton accompanied me to the station; the same gentle. 
 
176 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 polite, devoted, old Bettyish, dear little man that he was twenty- 
 years ago. Lectured on the Early colleges at the Peabody. 
 The audience seemed to be in continual good humor. Worked 
 like a Trojan on my lecture for to-morrow night. 
 
 New York, 31 December. Have worked very hard at the His- 
 torical Society. Have dined and wined very much and am 
 rather done up. Thus ends 1882 — a year of various experi- 
 ences; a year of very sweet and imperishable memory. Thanks 
 be to God! 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 1883 
 
 Ithaca, ly January. In the evening I read Wirt's Turkish 
 spy. Have determined to get vigorously about the collection 
 of material for a life of Patrick Henry 
 
 Ithaca, 2g February. Preached at St. John's my sermon on 
 Matthew^ s answer to Christ's call. It was a sacred privilege to 
 me to preach, and God seemed to give his blessing to the sermon. 
 I was greatly moved; and the reaction was very great. I did 
 not go out again all day, but rested. I feel that my life is passing 
 to a higher plane of motive. Fame as an object in life has 
 lost its power for me, and all other finite and earthly motives as 
 well. They cannot satisfy. 
 
 Ithaca, II April. Received a letter from Bishop Huntington 
 to the effect that Bishop Coxe has consented to come here and 
 ordain me April 29. In the evening read aloud in Farrar's 
 St. Paul, also read in Browne on the articles, and in Phillips 
 Brooks. My afternoon reading is now all in theology and in. 
 Biblical and devotional writings. 
 
 Ithaca, April 28. Bishop Coxe arrived at 8 130 this evening, and 
 I escorted him to the rectory, where I remained with him till after 
 eleven. He is very gracious and fascinating; and he makes the 
 ordination a matter of his most careful attention. He asks 
 minutely respecting all requirements; has me write and sign my 
 subscription to the articles, etc., and enters an account of my 
 
178 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 life. He is very apostolic. The approaching event fills me 
 with deep emotion. 
 
 Ithaca^ April 2g. Before ten I reached the Bishop's presence, 
 and spent the time with him alone in earnest and solemn conver- 
 sation. He asked me concerning my theological tendencies, 
 and advised me to read Bull and Leighton — the former for 
 catholic theology, the latter for devotion. We walked to church 
 together. A very large congregation. The services lasted till 
 half-past one. The Bishop's sermon was good, but below my 
 expectations either for thought or expression. 
 
 Of course it is the most solemn day in my life. God help 
 me to be faithful to these most sacred vows! I feel that I am 
 now set apart in a peculiar way for only holy uses. God is very 
 near to me. Dined at three. Until then the Bishop had me 
 alone with him in his room; and he gave me much apostolic 
 counsel, sympathy, and encouragement. It was very sweet and 
 noble. He said he preferred to be alone with me, that he might 
 avoid desultory conversation. 
 
 I left and came home for some needed rest. Was too utterly 
 tired out to sleep. At seven went to church. I read prayers 
 and pronounced absolution for the first time. Perhaps I was 
 too tired properly to judge of the Bishop's sermon, but it was 
 again disappointing. I bade him farewell at the church. 
 No day so sacred and holy as this has ever before been 
 mine. 
 
 I write here in a reserved way of my most secret thoughts. 
 My spirit has passed through a great change this past year; and 
 the motives which have hitherto impelled me in life have lost 
 their power. No motive but that of loyalty to God in the service 
 of man seems to me to be worthy of any man's life; and I grieve 
 over my lapse from the high grounds on which I started in life. 
 If now my book were done, most gladly would I give up aU and 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 179 
 
 preach the Gospel and die in that service. But I feel committed 
 to the completion of my literary task, and long to have it done. 
 God help me! God guide me! 
 
 Ithaca, Sunday, 20 May. At St. John's, this morning, cele- 
 brated the Holy Communion for the first time. It is an un- 
 speakably solemn and pathetic act; my soul was deeply moved. 
 At Sage Chapel in the afternoon heard Bishop Simpson, who is 
 not quite seventy-three; is tall, slender, bowed over, with a high, 
 thin voice, provincial pronunciation, but an air of great sincerity, 
 reverence, earnestness. His sermon was a high piece of sustained 
 intellectual power, with many defects in scholarship. 
 
 Ithaca, 22 May. My morning work, as usual, then went to 
 hear Goldwin Smith. Small audience. Few students. He 
 talks such English as one rejoices to hear. Later in the after- 
 noon called on him. He has aged in looks; is most meagre; 
 looks like the knight of the melancholy countenance. His talk 
 is critical, clean, strong, but not morally cheerful or spiritually 
 bright. He insists that there is a universal disintegration of 
 i faith in England. I infer that that is the case with himself. His 
 talk, like the look out of his eyes, is rather dreary, pessimistic. 
 ;, One of the notable things he said was that he once asked Earl 
 \ Russell who was the best speaker he ever heard. His reply was: 
 i "The finest speaker was Plunkett; the most charming was Can- 
 I ning; but the weightiest was Sir Robert Peel." 
 
 Ithaca, 27 May. Felt hke preaching to-day. Read service 
 as usual. My heart and conscience more and more pull me to- 
 ward a complete devotion of myself to the ministry. It is chiefly 
 — perhaps solely — a question of health. 
 
 Ithaca, June y. At last I begin to feel adjusted to my new 
 home. The two years that have passed since I decided to come 
 
i8o MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 here have been given to the organization of my class work, and 
 at last I have got that so well arranged that I can begin the next 
 year without anxiety, and can make much time for real literary 
 production. And yet, and yet, my soul constantly says, "Thou 
 ought to be preaching the Gospel, rather than teaching American 
 history, or writing books upon it." And if God clearly points 
 to me that it is His will that I should give my whole time and 
 strength to preaching. His will be done. 
 
 I J June. Left ior Rome, N. Y., to attend a diocesan con- 
 vention. A much abler set of men than we had in Michigan 
 when I left. I had a very little talk with the Bishop, who im- 
 presses me more and more by his wisdom and spiritual earnest- 
 ness and depth. 
 
 Albany, ii July. Attended convocation rather fitfully. 
 Viewed the new Capitol. Shook hands with the governor, who 
 looks like a prosperous pork butcher. Met Professor Gilmore, 
 of Rochester, and President Folwell, of University of Minnesota. 
 With latter spent a couple of hours in my room. I like him. He 
 doesn't like college presidencies. We agree. 
 
 Albany, 12 July. Gave my address at twelve. Was in good 
 force. The regents conferred on me the degree of L.H.D. 
 
 [The following clipping is taken from the Rochester democrat 
 alluding to this occasion:] 
 
 "The regents of the university, at their semi-annual meeting, 
 conferred the degree of L.H.D. on Prof. Moses Coit Tyler, 
 of Cornell University. The regents have uniformly been very 
 scrupulous in the bestowal of the higher degrees, and therefore 
 in each case in which such a degree has been given it may be 
 assmned to have real significance. Certainly in the case of 
 Professor Tyler it has been appropriately bestowed. His ser- 
 vices to the cause of letters, especially as indicated in his History 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER i8i 
 
 of American literature^ which is already a standard work, 
 place him in the front rank of American authors, and, as he is 
 still a comparatively young man, more is to be expected from his 
 ardent studies and graceful pen. Professor Tyler delivered the 
 annual address before the university convocation last evening." 
 
 Ithaca, 15 July. Preached at St. John's on God. I was 
 deeply moved both by the service and in the sermon. This is 
 the greatest work for me. I am at my best in this. God lead 
 me! In the afternoon White called and invited me to be his 
 guest on a journey abroad. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Oxford, August 12, i88j 
 Dearest Jeannette : 
 
 Perhaps you will be as much surprised as I am to see this 
 letter dated at Oxford. We left the hotel in London yesterday 
 noon, intending to go to York, and directed the cabman to drive 
 us to King's Cross station. Just before we started I had re- 
 ceived a letter from Max Miiller, at Oxford, in reply to one from 
 me written at White's request, and it suddenly popped into his 
 mind that we had better go to Oxford and see Max Miiller, in- 
 stead of going at once to York. So we ordered cabby to drive 
 us to the Paddington station, where we took train for this an- 
 cient and majestic seat of learning, arriving at about four in the 
 afternoon, and taking up our abode at this fine hotel. At five 
 we went to see Max Miiller. White's object was to induce him 
 to come next year and give some lectures at Cornell. He lives 
 in an elegant villa embowered in trees in a fine garden, and is 
 himself the model of a great scholar and an accomplished gentle- 
 man. He seems to be about sixty years old; has a clear, bright 
 German-English face; speaks English with just a slight accent, 
 but with a fine vocabulary, and his conversation is animated, 
 sparkling, and with all the notes of a man who has seen the best 
 life in the world. White found at once that his effort to get him 
 to come to America was hopeless. He said that for twenty years 
 
i82 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 he had had many similar overtures; that he had great literary 
 tasks to accomplish, for which life at longest would be too short; 
 that he could only stay at home and keep steadily at his work; 
 that if he travelled anywhere it must be to India, which he always 
 had a passion for seeing; but that he expected never to get time 
 to see either England, India, or America. 
 
 The conversation ranged over many subjects, till he asked 
 us to walk with him to the university park, where his wife and 
 daughter were playing lawn tennis with other members of a club. 
 It was a rich English turf, and his daughter, a bonny, whole- 
 some English lass — as healthy as a fresh rose — with a sweet 
 voice, came bounding toward us saying: "Daddy, what makes 
 you so late? Mamma got tired of waiting for you and has gone 
 home." 
 
 We were introduced to several people, the most notable of 
 whom was Mrs. Mark Pattison, whose husband is the principal 
 of Lincoln College here, and who is said to be the original of 
 Casaubon in Middlemarch. Mrs. Pattison is much younger 
 than her husband, and perhaps is the original of Dorothea. At 
 any rate she is a very brilhant, witty, and accomplished woman, 
 rather French than EngHsh in her type, and said to be the best 
 lady fencer in England. I am told that she and her husband 
 live very unhappily together. She talked in the most lively 
 way and badgered President White a Httle for having drawn 
 away to America her special friend, Goldwin Smith. 
 
 We then came to the hotel to dinner; and at half -past nine, by 
 invitation, went to a small reception at Max Miiller's and stayed 
 until nearly midnight. He played the piano to his daughter's 
 singing and to an accompaniment on the violin by the daughter 
 
 of the dean of Winchester. There were present a Miss , of 
 
 Philadelphia; a young Mr. B , a Harvard man, now a student 
 
 here — a very superior fellow; and an EngHsh student named 
 Lascelles — a perfect giant physically, being six feet ten inches 
 high. Max Miiller told us that Barnum had sent proposals to 
 him for exhibition; but he is of a fine EngHsh family and of course 
 declined. Mrs. Max MiiUer is a niece of Mrs. Froude and 
 of Mrs. Charles Kingsley, and is of the best sort of EngHsh 
 woman. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 183 
 
 This morning at ten we went to the cathedral to the service, 
 which was very sweet and rich. This is the seat of the Puseyite 
 party; and Pusey himself was buried just beneath our feet as 
 we sat there. We saw Dean Liddell and Professor Stubbs and 
 Professor Driver, who is Pusey's successor. The cathedral 
 is old and rich in all forms of grandeur, architectural beauty, 
 and historical associations. There my friend Bishop Berkeley 
 is buried. After church Mr. B. escorted us on a walk: through 
 Christ Church meadows, along the Cherwell and through several 
 of the colleges; and then after lunch this afternoon both he and 
 Max Miiller called to accompany us further through the colleges. 
 We had two delightful hours of it, and a most delightful time. 
 I especially enjoyed a visit to All Souls' College, which was IMax 
 Miiller's and which is a most luxurious abode. One of the 
 many good things which Max Miiller told us is this: All Souls' 
 College was founded by Bishop Berkeley in the fifteenth century, 
 especially to support fellows who should pray for the souls of 
 Englishmen killed in the French wars at that time. Then came 
 the Reformation, which rendered praying for anybody's soul 
 unlawful in England. But the endowment was very rich; and 
 the fellows were comfortably provided for and had nothing to 
 do. It is the only college in Oxford which never had an under- 
 graduate in it. It has extensive buildings and quadrangles with 
 fine grass. A few years ago Parliament sent a commission to 
 overhaul the university; they summoned the wardens of All 
 Souls' before them, and among their questions was this: "Why 
 don't you have undergraduates in your college?" "What's the 
 use of undergraduates?" said the warden in reply; "they would 
 only spoil our grass." 
 
 Max Miiller is very fond of dogs; and has two, which he treats 
 very affectionately. Lovingly thine, M. 
 
 Paris, August 25, 1883. 
 Well, here we are in this brilliant city once more. We left 
 London at eleven yesterday morning by train to Folkestone, 
 then by steamer to Boulogne. Our passage across the channel 
 was delightful. A slight breeze, but not enough to make 
 anybody turn pale. White, who has crossed the channel 
 
i84 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 times without nximber, says it is the pleasantest passage he 
 ever had. 
 
 I wasn't much impressed by Boulogne. Suppose I saw it 
 but imperfectly. It hadn't the old French look that I noticed 
 in Dieppe last year. It is a great English colony on French 
 soil. I saw the cathedral at a distance, and the columnar mon- 
 ument to Napoleon on the spot where Napoleon assembled his 
 forces for his great invasion of England, which he never made. 
 The figure of Napoleon stands on the top of the column, still 
 looking hard at England. The journey through France from 
 Boulogne is less picturesque than that from Dieppe. One no- 
 ticeable thing in the north of France is the absence of all fine 
 country houses. The fury of the French Revolution swept them 
 all away; and the democracy has since built plain, democratic 
 abodes. As we went through Amiens I got a peep at its cathedral, 
 which White regards as one of the three or four best in Europe. 
 It is pleasant to be immersed for a few days in gorgeousness, al- 
 though I don't lose my heart to it. The great satisfactions 
 of existence do not depend upon it. 
 
 Our visit to Ayr was a great success in every way. We reached 
 that place at about six; got rooms at the King's Arms and then 
 took a carriage for Burns's birthplace, for his monument, and for 
 Alloway Kirk, about three miles out. The air was cool and 
 bracing, full of nectar and champagne; and we greatly enjoyed 
 everything. We saw the very house, the room, even the bed in 
 which Burns was born, and many deeply interesting mementoes 
 of him. After our return to the hotel we walked across the " twa 
 Brigs o' Air;" and tried to take our whiskey toddy in the very 
 inn from which Tam o' Shanter started on his memorable ride, 
 but found it closed for a few days, apparently on account 
 of a death. . . . Moses. 
 
 Paris, August 2Q, 1883 
 My Beloved: 
 
 This is the last letter I can write to you before sailing; and 
 the ship it goes by will have to sail swiftly, or my ship will get 
 to New York before it. No doubt you see that the City of Rome 
 is making remarkably fast passages; and unless head winds are 
 very strong we shall reach New York by the thirteenth. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 185 
 
 I am to see you so soon after this can get to you that I don't 
 feel like writing much now. In fact, there is hardly time in the 
 rush of events here to scribble more than a few lines. 
 
 On Sunday I had a dehghtful hour at the American Episcopal 
 Church, where Dr. Henry Potter, of Grace church, preached. In 
 the afternoon White and I went to Notre Dame, the Pantheon 
 and several old churches, and rambled through the Latin quarter 
 of the town, where he used to live as a student thirty years ago. 
 
 Yesterday we called on the American minister, visited the 
 tomb of Napoleon, some of the old book-shops, the pictures of 
 the Luxembourg, and I went alone once more to the Pantheon 
 and Notre Dame. Now committing ourselves to God's provi- 
 dence, I can only say good-bye and God bless you and speed 
 the happy day! Lovingly, M. 
 
 Ithaca, September 17, 1883. Have had a glorious, restful, 
 healthful, journey. Full of health, of gratitude, of hope, I return 
 to my home and to my work, in which I earnestly invoke 
 God's blessing. May I Uve a life that shall make others happier 
 and better! I thank God for all his benefits to me and 
 mine. 
 
 Ithaca, 2g Septemher. From eight to one as usual at office. 
 Got two hours for book. I hope now to keep some work on it 
 all the time in hand. My interest has moved away from it to 
 my original vocation in Kfe; but I may have the book as a side 
 occupation, and by perseverance may get much done in the course 
 of years. Its completion is now no longer a matter of ambition, 
 but a matter of character — an act of devotion to the duty of 
 finishing whatever worthy thing one has undertaken. 
 
 Ithaca, I October. Lectures to seniors at eight and twelve. 
 I am getting the hang of history lectures now. The lectures 
 I am giving are new ones on the period from 1783 to 1789. The 
 study interests me much, and all bears on my Vol. III. Ah! that 
 
i86 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 unborn Volume III ! At the twelve o'clock lecture some of my 
 seniors stayed away to attend a class meeting — a proceeding of 
 which I shall take notice, and from which some trouble is likely 
 to arise. 
 
 Ithaca, 10 October. Weather strangely and oppressively warm. 
 Worked from nine to twelve on lectures on the Constitution; 
 then till one I began to put my books in better order on the 
 shelves. Have just had my two closets fitted up with shelves 
 for manuscripts. Altogether my den is getting to be very nice 
 as a workshop; and with our new arrangements for heating, the 
 building is practically fireproof. My shelves are visible from 
 the walk on the outside; and a meek freshman came to my door 
 and asked if this was the "second-hand book-store." Dear boy, 
 he looked very sweet and harmless. 
 
 Ithaca, 14 December. In the evening read in St. Luke, revised 
 version, which I greatly enjoy. I cannot doubt that it will yet 
 displace the other. Spent the evening in studying sermons for 
 to-morrow afternoon, etc. My heart has almost wholly deserted 
 literary work — the inspiration for which was love of fame. 
 This has now lost its power over me. Fame is an illusion in 
 this universe. The only motive worthy of a man is love. Under 
 that motive I am impelled straight to the work of the ministry. 
 I await God's orders. 
 
 Ithaca, 21 December. Worked at den from nine to one. First 
 two hours on oration. Then read in Life of Lieber a book that 
 braces one's manhood and compels one to task himself to do 
 the most honest intellectual work; full of acute remarks and 
 seed-ideas; the record of a brave and helpful life. In the evening 
 read two hours in Bishop Bull — a soimd, virile theologian, 
 the embodiment of soHd thought, solid sense, no whining or 
 crotchets; cathohc, human Christianity, 
 
'MOSES COIT TYLER 187 
 
 Ithaca^ 27 December. Spent the morning at home rewriting 
 a sermon which I may preach in New York at Church of the 
 Annunciation, January 6. It is on Christianity a power. In 
 evening read to Jeannette two sermons of Stopford Brooke. My 
 spirit suffers ineffable anguish over my own errors and lapses 
 from the high path I started to walk as a young man. Oh, 
 merciful God! pardon, pardon; help, help. Undo, if possible, 
 some — all — the harm I have done! May the remainder 
 of my life be paid to Thee by me with a devotion intensified by 
 my years of apathy! 
 
 Ithaca, 31 December. All the morning at den on that con- 
 founded oration. In the afternoon a glorious ride — my usual 
 ten miles. In the evening read in Christlieb his remarkable 
 chapter on the Trinity. Good-bye, Old Year! 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Jan. I. I enter the New Year in high health, and with spirits 
 clear and confident, though chastened. The one grief of my Hfe 
 is that I fell away from the noble cause that I began. Yet — 
 what lessons I have had! Could I have learned them in any 
 other way ? 
 
 New York, 2 January. A nasty day, such as New York is 
 capable of — snow in heaps, and villainously dirty, slushy streets, 
 raining Hke mad. Last evening preached at the Church of the 
 Annunciation. Was much embarrassed. Dr. W. J. Seabury, 
 who was going with me on an historic pilgrimage to Westchester, 
 came behind time; we were too late for the train and had to 
 postpone the whole affair. I spent several hours with him at 
 his study and home and saw the Seabury papers, etc. 
 
 New York, 7 January. Spent morning in revising lecture for 
 to-night on Bishop Seabury. Dined at Doctor Hoffman's at 
 six. Lectured at St. Peter's Hall at eight. Had a good 
 time. 
 
 Ithaca, 2Q January. Lecture at eight. Spent till one on my 
 chapter on James Otis for Vol. III. Ah! that I had that volume 
 done. If that engagement were off my soul — what should I 
 do? My heart impels me to give my whole life to religious work 
 among men. 
 
 In the evening read in Milman and Uberweg. The latter I 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 189 
 
 take up for philosphy, instead of Cousin, whom I cannot now 
 read, though twenty-five years ago I deHghted in him. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 February. Lecture at eight. Nine to one on steady 
 work on James Otis. Good progress. I have prayed earnestly 
 for help to do this work, and to get it finished that I may give 
 myself wholly to reUgious writing and speaking. My prayers 
 are being answered. 
 
 Ithaca, 18 February. Lecture at eight. Till a quarter past 
 twelve worked on Otis, in which I prosper. I seem to have special 
 success in getting forward with the book work — the completion 
 of which is the one thing needful to my being quite free for re- 
 ligious work with pen and voice. 
 
 Ithaca, J March. Lectured at eight. From nine to twelve 
 on Otis. Rights of the British colonies. Made good progress. 
 I am grateful for it — I am working out my freedom. When this 
 is done my mortgage to secular life will be paid off, and I shall 
 be free in honor to give my time, voice, pen, soul, body, to direct 
 work for the souls of men. 
 
 This evening finished second volume of Milman's History of 
 Christianity, which has been rather oppressive lately by its 
 Gibbonish style. 
 
 Ithaca, 16 March. In the evening gave my lecture on Bishop 
 Sedbury. It is some time since I have enjoyed any public speak- 
 ing as I did this. I have modified the lecture after each delivery, 
 and it comes nearer the mark now. Ratherish tired, but not 
 overwhelmed. Oh, I'm quite a war-horse! 
 
 Ithaca, ly March. Lectured at eight. At work on classi- 
 fication till twelve; then read for an hour that bracing book, 
 Lieber's Life and letters. In afternoon attended civil service 
 
I90 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 examination committee. We decided to send Apgar to Albany 
 to brace up our representative to vote for the extension of the 
 system to smaller municipaHties, etc. 
 
 New York, 26 March. Left for New York this A. m. On 
 my arrival here, the good Joel Benton met me with his 
 buoyant and gracious greeting — proffering all manner of kind 
 services and talking of the little authors and small literary doings 
 of the town. 
 
 Middletown, Ct., 28 March. Was met at the station by the 
 stately and beloved Bishop Williams. In the evening I lectured 
 on Bishop Berkeley. After the lecture an informal reception 
 in the Bishop's library, for faculty and students. This visit 
 with Bishop Williams has been delightful in the extreme. I 
 have seldom seen a man who so strongly draws out my admiration 
 and affection. His talk is rich. Besides serious and suggestive 
 things, it sparkles with humor and anecdote. I will try to record 
 some of his good things. He told me that his grandfather was 
 a Loyalist in the Revolution. One very cold night in winter he 
 was called up by a person who told him that he was needed by 
 a sick person several miles away. He went in the sleigh with 
 the messenger. Having got to the house and stepped from the 
 sleigh, the man said: "Now, you d — d old Tory; there's no- 
 body sick here; and you can just get home the best way you can." 
 So he left the old man out in the fierce night and the deep snow, 
 on a lonely country road. He struggled through and got home; 
 but his death was hastened by it. Bishops Madison and Pro- 
 voost were Arians. So poor a churchman was Madison that one 
 day a student at William and Mary College came to him and said : 
 "Will there be the usual college exercise to-morrow?" 
 
 "Why not?" said Bishop Madison. 
 
 " It is Good Friday." 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 191 
 
 "I don't know anything about that. Of course college work 
 will go on as usual." 
 
 Whitefield told Tutor Flint, of Harvard College, that Tillot- 
 son was now in hell. "No, Mr. Whitefield, you will not find 
 him there." 
 
 The Bishop told several amusing things about the experiences 
 of himself and other bishops among strangers in traveUing. 
 
 Bishop Upfold was saluted in the cars by the conductor ex- 
 claiming, "Well, old cock, how are you to-day?" The Bishop 
 replied solemnly, "Sir, do you know that I am Bishop Upfold?" 
 
 "Whew! The devil you are!" 
 
 He was himself one summer fishing in Vermont and boarded 
 at a farm house. The family knew him as "Mr. Williams." 
 One day the woman expressed a great desire to know what his 
 business was when he was "to home." He considered that she 
 would have no idea what "bishop" meant; so he told her that 
 he was "a travelhng agent." 
 
 When I suggested that the case in which bishops carried 
 their robes added special fitness to the description, he said: 
 "Yes; why, only the other evening, when I came home from a 
 visitation, and one of my boys met me at the station and carried 
 my bag for me, I heard another student say to him, "Billy, 
 what have you got there?" 
 
 "Only the old gentleman's sample case." 
 
 When Trinity College was at its old site in Hartford, years 
 ago, a clergyman, since made a bishop, was elected into the board 
 of trustees. He entered in his work with an idea of thoroughness. 
 The morning after his arrival at Hartford to attend the first 
 meeting of the board he got up early, and walked around and 
 through the campus to see what he could find that was wrong. 
 Away down in the lower edge of the campus he found a dead 
 horse that had been lying there some time. At the meeting 
 he gravely related the incident, and said twice over very seriously. 
 
192 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 "Gentlemen, I was mortified." Bishop Williams interposed, 
 "And so was the horse." The meeting broke up in convulsions. 
 Bishop Williams told me that once on a Hudson river boat a 
 ruffian tried to force his way to the ticket office out of his turn, 
 and he (the Bishop) knocked him down. 
 
 Providence, i6 June. Gave my lecture on Berkeley at the 
 Infantry Hall. Had considerable talk with Bishop Clark, who 
 is seventy-two, but has the look of fifty. His vivacity is all I 
 had expected. When I asked him if he was going to Scotland 
 this summer to the Seabury commemoration, he said no, and that 
 he took but little interest in the thing. He thought Seabury's in- 
 fluence on the organization of the American church had been bad. 
 
 Ithaca, 27 June. The first hush and serenity of a university 
 town after commencement are very soothing to me. I can 
 feel the vacation. It gives a sense of deHverance from the usual 
 grind. After nap in afternoon did errands; took J. driving; and 
 felt all the evening the good, clam-like vacation stupor. Lay in 
 the hammock in slumberous bHss. 
 
 Ithaca, 23 July. Got to my den by half -past nine and worked 
 till a quarter past one, there, and at the Ubrary. I find it neces- 
 sary to go to the bottom of the arguments and of the doings on 
 both sides on the question of the right to tax the colonies. I 
 do not now write much. The Hterary attractions of my period 
 (i 761-1 789) do not yet excite my interest. I would gladly work in 
 general American history and above all in ethics and theology. 
 
 Ithaca, 2 August. I become forty-nine years old to-day. 
 Life grows rich and sweet as the years accumulate. Never 
 before have I been so very near the principle of order in exis- 
 tence. A year ago I was at sea with Andrew D. White; two 
 years ago, alone in Paris; three years ago, at Hillcroft — returned 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 193 
 
 there after a month's stay at Ithaca, rending my heartstrings 
 over the fact of abandoning the home of my creation and of my 
 fondest love. 
 
 But my coming here was indeed providential! The light that 
 shined upon me that night, when I prayed for light, guided me 
 aright. The most satisfactory privileges in life have come to me 
 here. Never before have I been so deeply happy, soundly, 
 sohdly happy. The great fermentations of existence are done. 
 I have found my niche, my sphere, my vocation, my horizon, 
 even my burial place. So ends my forty-ninth birthday. Now 
 for fifty! 
 
 Ithaca, 4 August. At work in den as usual. Had some 
 reflection on the cruelty of gossiping tongues, even to one's 
 dead ancestors. Took exercise over my woodpile. The politi- 
 cal campaign as between Blaine and Cleveland does not much 
 interest me. It is taking a low stratum of controversy, plunging 
 into the mud of private scandal. They are now calling Cleve- 
 land "the second Aaron Burr." 
 
 Ithaca, August 5. Read in Life of Samuel Adams, and classi- 
 fied some notes. Once more, after the literary chaos produced 
 by my break-up at Hillcrof t, I am beginning to feel the fact and 
 joy of order in my literary apparatus. Had intended to go to 
 the cemetery this afternoon to look at lots, but a sharp shower 
 came just in time to prevent. 
 
 Ithaca, II August. Spent nearly the whole morning in notes 
 on Perry's Life of Lieber — a book full of stimulating thought 
 and noble inspiration. I am just now getting into order my 
 materials of all kinds, and am pushing deeper my investigations 
 into the thought at the basis of our Revolution, particularly 
 the English side of the case. 
 
194 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, i6 August. From nine to a quarter past one at work 
 in classifying. Had expected to finish this work with this week, 
 but failed. I have been handling the results of readings for the 
 past three years, and to do it well takes much thought and time. 
 My materials are now better in hand than they have been since 
 I left my beloved study at Hillcroft; and I am now more nearly 
 adjusted to my new environment. The anguish I have suffered 
 from the break-up at Hillcroft will constitute a permanent warning 
 against another break-up — except for overpowering reasons. 
 The conviction settles upon me that not in parochial work, but 
 as a writer, student, teacher, and preacher in my present academic 
 relation to the world, I am to serve my Master; and that now at 
 forty-nine I have no more outward changes either in occupation 
 or residence to prepare for. 
 
 Ithaca, 26 August. It marks my present state of feeling about 
 life and death that I to-day completed the purchase of a lot 
 in the cemetery here, near the campus. It also denotes my 
 feeling that I have come here to stay. A gradual conviction 
 has filtered through my consciousness that here I have found 
 my work, my home, my grave. 
 
 Of course in this I may be wrong. But of this I am certain: 
 Death may come to a family at any moment; it is a bitter thing 
 then to inquire where the lifeless body can be laid, and to go 
 scrambling about on such a quest; and I have thought it wise 
 to be sure of this portion of God's acre for us now, in life and in 
 health. But lest the fact should give pain, I have not men- 
 tioned it to any one of the family; and shall name it as a thing 
 formerly done. 
 
 Ithaca, JO September. Senior seminary. First meeting. The 
 best organization I have yet had here. Indeed all my classes 
 are in better shape than ever before. I am ridding them of the 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 195 
 
 old Cornell looseness in work. Read in evening in Life of Maurice 
 — a book too diffuse and clumsy. I want to try my hand at 
 a Life some day. I feel as if I could. 
 
 Ithaca, Sunday, 26 October. Drove to Ludlowville and offici- 
 ated. Returned home to dinner. The day was cold and 
 clear and the autumn tints of the leaves very rich. Was so tired 
 that I went to bed at three, utterly fagged out. 
 
 This shows that I cannot safely omit my summer vacation 
 and the sea air. I am below par in strength this year. It 
 does not pay. 
 
 Sadly I draw a final conclusion of despair respecting my physi- 
 cal capacity for work in any active way as a preacher. I need 
 no longer drift on this subject. I am unfit for rector, or even 
 much preaching. I am in my right place and work as a teacher 
 and a writer. God help me to make the most of it! This en- 
 forced conclusion is a reHef to me also. It gives fixedness, con- 
 centration, and content. 
 
 Let me often think of Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, and see my op- 
 portunity here even for moral and spiritual results. 
 
 Ithaca, 5 November. This is the last day of an election cam- 
 paignfculminating in anger and filth. H says there are a thou- 
 sand purchasable votes in this county, at an average of thirteen 
 dollars apiece. He seemed fearful of Cleveland's defeat through 
 the lavish use of money by the Blaine party. He thought that 
 Jay Gould couldn't afford to have Blaine defeated. The out- 
 look for republican institutions has a dismal view in that quarter. 
 
 Ithaca, 7 November. Cleveland stock is up to-day. The 
 Albany evening journal conceded his election and Jay Gould 
 has telegraphed his congratulations; yet the Tribune insists 
 that Blaine has the state and is elected. Both parties clamor- 
 ously celebrated the victory to-night. 
 
196 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, 8 November. The National Republican Committee 
 and many leading editors in the state, and Blaine himself, in- 
 sist that New York had given a majority to the RepubUcans. 
 This is sternly denied by the Democrats and by such clear- 
 headed papers as the Times. We are on the verge of a great 
 national peril. Any other race than the Anglo-Saxon would have 
 got to blood-letting forty-eight hours ago over such a dispute. 
 The Democrats in some cases talk fierce talk. One regiment of 
 them publicly offers its services to Cleveland. Still the pre- 
 vailing tone on both sides is cooler and more sensible. We 
 have a legal way of settling the dispute. We must not resort 
 to blows. Yet the danger has awful possibilities. 
 
 Ithaca J 10 November. Spent two hours this evening in reading 
 the New York papers. The danger increases of a prolonged 
 uncertainty as to the result. The tone of both sides is very 
 determined, and here and there a declaimer makes threats. 
 
 The following letter from Governor Cleveland is printed in 
 to-day's paper. Its modesty, conscientiousness, and solemnity 
 are in a vein of self-reference not latterly observed in 
 public men, and especially reminding one of Lincoln and 
 Washington: 
 
 ^'London, 8 November, 1884. Mr. Harold Frederic, the 
 London correspondent of the New York times, contributes an 
 article to this evening's Pall Mall gazette, in which he quotes 
 from a private and hitherto unpublished letter from Governor 
 Cleveland, dated October 3, 1884, as follows: 'Imagine a man 
 standing in my place, with positively no ambition for a higher 
 place than he now holds, in constant apprehension that he may 
 be called upon to assume duties which are the greatest and 
 highest that a human being can take upon himself. I cannot 
 look upon the prospect of success in this campaign with 
 p,ny joy, but only with a serious kind of awe. Is this right?' '* 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 197 
 
 Ithaca, II November. The official count for this state begins 
 to-day. Result will not be ready perhaps before Tuesday. 
 Conkling appears as the leading counsel for the Democratic 
 committee in New York. There is something dramatic in 
 his appearing upon the field at this moment to strike perhaps 
 a deadly blow at his old enemy. It is said that during the recent 
 canvass he was informed that Mr. Blaine desired him to speak 
 for him. His reply was: "Tell Mr. Blaine that I have gone 
 out of criminal practice." 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 November 11, 1884, Cornell University 
 Dear Brother: 
 
 Your letter of the third was very interesting, especially the 
 description of your interview with our next President. I have 
 been much impressed by his modesty and his unambitious at- 
 titude. The letter of his, lately pubHshed in London, in which 
 he speaks of looking forward to the possibility of the presidency 
 with a sort of awe, and without joy, reminds one of the tone of 
 our best Presidents — precisely that of Lincoln and Washing- 
 ton. How dramatic is Conkhng's appearance on the field to 
 dash down his old enemy! 
 
 Affectionately, Moses. 
 
 Dec. 20. My last lecture was given yesterday. Have had no 
 interruption in class engagements; have given my whole time 
 and strength to the preparation of my lectures. It has been 
 the strongest term's work I have ever done, and I am sure it has 
 told. Evidently I must give most of my time this year to the 
 same employment; then my lectures will be in a shape to allow 
 of my pushing forward upon the History — without fear of the 
 enemy behind me. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 1885 — 1887 
 
 New York, i January. I arrived last night. Sauntered about 
 the streets, going into Jerry McAuley's Mission. I reflected on the 
 many times I have passed in New York the last night of the yean 
 
 Thus, to take recent cases, in 187 2-1 873, when I met Oliver 
 Johnson at Frothingham's service, and had the first intimation 
 of his being on the Christian union, and of his wish to have me 
 there. Then, December 31, 1873, when I was on the paper, and 
 had discovered that my removal was a mistake. By December 
 31, 1874, I was once more living in Ann Arbor; but that night 
 I passed with Frank Carpenter, partly at F. D. Moulton's 
 and Theodore Tilton's and partly in a walk up Broadway, 
 passing Grace Church at midnight and talking over the horrible 
 Beecher business. Ten years ago! ... I have been quite 
 alone all day. My thoughts have been both in the future and 
 in the past; and much in prayer. I think I never before had so 
 few and so feeble ties to this world, nor ever began a year with so 
 conscious a willingness not to see the end of it. Indeed always 
 before this I have both desired and expected to live. I am con- 
 tent to continue in life a long time if it be God's will; indeed, I 
 should rather like to carry out certain plans of work. Yet I 
 feel as never before perfect rest in God's hands; no purpose of 
 my own independent of His; and a conviction that other worlds 
 to which I am going will give me useful emplojonent and growth. 
 
 New York, 3 January. Called on Edward Eggleston and saw 
 him and his wife at their lodgings. He is taking on a fine, ven- 
 
 108 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 199 
 
 erable look, rather of the big literary patriarch kind; told me of 
 his fireproof study, etc. At which, pangs. 
 
 New York, 8 January. Gave first of four lectures to-night 
 before General Theological Seminary at St. Peter's Hall, on Whig 
 writings prior to 1775. Had a good audience and a good time. 
 
 New York, g January. Lectured on Hopkinson. Larger 
 audience. 
 
 New York, 12 January. Lectured on the Tories. A large 
 audience. Didn't enjoy it. 
 
 [The last lecture on January 13th, on Philip Freneau, the 
 Whig satirist, was given to a very large audience and is referred 
 to in a New York paper as follows:] 
 
 " Professor Tyler delivered his fourth and last lecture last even- 
 ing in St. Peter's Hall before the Episcopal seminarians and a 
 thoroughly appreciative audience which filled the room. The 
 remarkable interest which these lectures have so steadily devel- 
 oped would suggest the expediency of a repetition of the course 
 in a large hall more centrally located. His line of thought and 
 illustration gathered chiefly about Philip Freneau, who was of 
 good Huguenot stock, descended from a line of New York mer- 
 chants. He was clearly enough the satirical gladiator of the 
 Revolution. If he hated the British with an uncommon hatred, 
 he perhaps inherited the privilege of doing so along with his 
 French blood and his French name. 
 
 "Graduated at Princeton in the class of 1 771, he S3nnpathized 
 with the earHest movements of the Revolution. - Other Whig 
 satirists may have had a playful vein; Freneau almost never. His 
 ordinary stroke is keen, but heavy and hard; he is the poet of 
 hatred. He carefully trained himself for his function by study- 
 ing the Roman and French masterpieces in satire; but his great 
 models were Dryden, Poe, and especially Churchill. He began 
 his career at a fortunate moment, when just such a satirist was 
 
200 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 needed, and when the materials for just such satire — sincere, 
 wrathful, Juvenalian satire — were furnished to him in abund- 
 ance by the conduct of the English government and of its civil 
 and military representatives in America. 
 
 "A running commentary on his revolutionary satires would 
 be an almost complete commentary on the whole revolutionary 
 struggle, nearly every important emergency and phase of which 
 are photographed in his keen, merciless, and often briUiant lines. 
 In connection with a writer like Freneau, it is natural to think of 
 the long strife of the Revolution not so much as a strife of arms, 
 as a strife of wit and anger, of ridicule and recrimination. 
 
 "This sort of warfare was vigorously maintained by Freneau 
 from 1775, when, in such poems as The midnight consultations, 
 Libera Nos Domine, and The rebel, he satirized Gage and Bur- 
 goyne and Lord Percy and the blundering proceedings of the 
 British troops down to 1783, when he dismissed them with The 
 prophecy; and during the interval, George III, Lord North, the 
 Howes, ComwalHs, the American Tories, the apostate Arnold, 
 the British prison-ships, and the Tory printers, Rivington and 
 Hugh Gaine, are the subjects of his poignant verses." 
 
 Ithaca, 24 January. Worked all the morning on lectures on 
 Colonial governments. News of an awful dynamite outrage in 
 London; explosions in the Tower, in Westminster Hall, and the 
 House of Commons. Anarchy is abroad. 
 
 Ithaca, 2g January. The civilized world is pausing in horror 
 before the dynamite outrages in London. 
 
 Ithaca, 30 January. Spent half an hour in inspection of work 
 at Hillcroft. The return of that name into my life sweetens it. 
 How I loved that home! How my heart bleeds and moans for it 
 stiU! And my study, and those old places and doings! But a 
 light shone down into my spirit from heaven, and guided me hither 
 — through much trial and loss. I think it was light from heaven. 
 But what it all means will be made clear, perhaps, some day. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 201 
 
 Oneida, 2 February. At five, left for Oneida, where I arrived 
 at about half-past eight. On train met Garrett, of north Texas, 
 a most vivacious, not to say rollicking, prelate. 
 
 Oneida, j February. At half-past nine the clergy attending 
 diocesan conference entered the church in processional. Holy 
 Communion. A sacred time; the divine presence. Then the 
 Bishop gave us a wonderful address on the spiritual attitude 
 and life of the clergyman; wise, searching, most solemn, and 
 tender. At three in the afternoon session resumed. The last 
 thing was my paper. In the evening Bishop Garrett preached 
 an impassioned and brilliant missionary sermon. 
 
 Oneida, 4 February. Holy Communion at quarter-past seven. 
 The Bishop officiated, looking like an apostle — like St. Peter. 
 It was a time of deep spiritual joy to me. 
 
 Ithaca, y February. In the evening called on Bishop Garrett. 
 He was rippling and boiling over with fun; too much so for a 
 bishop, I think. 
 
 Ithaca, 13 February. At eight, jimior seminary; at three, 
 senior. From four to six forty-five, faculty meeting. A dead 
 waste of time, patience, and health. 
 
 Ithaca, ig February. News that Gladstone's government is 
 likely to suffer defeat. We all grieve over the fate, while proud 
 of the manhood of Gordon. 
 
 Ithaca, 5 March. At eight gave the seniors my fifth and last 
 lecture on Andrew Jackson — dealing with his crime against 
 the civil service, a timely topic. The rest of the forenoon I 
 devoted to my new lecture on The campaign of 1850. Read 
 account of Cleveland's inauguration, and his compact, sensible, 
 and well-spirited address. Felt tired in the evening. Read 
 part of Stanley's chapter on Socrates. 
 
202 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca^ g March. I got to my den at nine and worked till 
 half-past twelve on Campaign of 1840. I am composing it on 
 my typewriter, which I use more and more. 
 
 Ithaca^ 15 April. Till eleven worked on lectures on American 
 revolution; then till half past twelve finished first volume of 
 S. G. Goodrich's Autobiography — an egregious example of 
 long-windedness. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 May. This noon I gave my last lecture to the 
 seniors and am looking forward to release from my heavy labors 
 — the heaviest and most fatiguing that I remember. I have bent 
 down over my class lectures all the year, and revised them all 
 and composed many new ones, and upon the top of this have 
 been the cares of building, moving, and settling. My plan is 
 now to gather up the odds and ends of work and begin once 
 more on my third volume, and to get in two months of work before 
 I go to the seaside in August. 
 
 Ithaca, May jo. Worked till twelve on notes of readings and 
 for an hour rested in Peter Parley's Autobiography. In after- 
 noon had a delightful ride. All nature was young, beautiful, 
 and fragrant. My heart was very joyous. 
 
 New York, 2 August. I am fifty years old to-day. Here 
 I am, alone, started for my summer's rest at 'Sconset. I cannot 
 write my thoughts on this tremendous birthday. I seem to 
 pass the hne now toward old age. Arithmetically I am no longer 
 a young man; nay, scarcely a middle-aged one; but my heart 
 is not old. What remaias of my life — here, O God, I dedicate 
 to Thee. Use it and me as Thou wilt. I worked for Thee, not 
 for myself. Taking the duty of an invalid I did not attend 
 church, but devoted myself to absorbing sea air. Went by boat 
 to Manhattan Beach; and after remaining there in quiet obser- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 203 
 
 vation and thought for several hours, returned in the same 
 manner. The spectacle of this great city in mourning is a very 
 touching one, and impressive. The symbols of grief and homage 
 for Grant are hung out by all classes and in all sorts of streets. 
 The fronts of some of the great buildings, like Wallack's and 
 the Fifth Avenue hotel, are a mass of rich and imposing symbol- 
 ism. On the City Hall are some tawdry verses, and a sentence 
 of rodomontade, but generally the inscriptions are simple, brief, 
 and touching. "His First and Last Surrender." "He fought 
 for his life as he fought for his country." His portraits wreathed 
 in the mourning are everywhere exhibited. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 1886— 1887 
 
 Ithaca, 4 January, 1886. At my oflace most of the morning; 
 worked on the Life of E. K. Apgar. Also put some papers in 
 order. In afternoon a heavy rain; instead of going out, sawed 
 wood in the cellar — a rather dark but perspiring operation. In 
 the evening went to office and also called on C. K. Adams, who had 
 just returned. Gave me an account of his visit to New Haven. 
 Tim Dwight writing with his eyes close to his knees. 
 
 [E. K. Apgar was Edgar Kelsey Apgar, a politician — as such 
 considered, by his friends, rather above the average. Harold 
 Frederic, to whom he was a warm friend, spoke of him as " tower- 
 ingly superior mentally" to other poHticians and as exhibiting 
 "unselfish patriotism."] 
 
 Ithaca, 22 January, 1886. Wrote to John T. Morse to ask 
 whether my promise to write Patrick Henry for his series is 
 outlawed. I am depressed about my History. Perhaps an 
 excursion into another field will restore my spirits. 
 
 Ithaca, 24 January, 1886. Sunday. Being brain-weary, did 
 not go to church. Lay on my back, and thought and prayed. 
 Am meditating on the plan of writing a Life of Patrick Henry. 
 
 Ithaca, I February, 1886. Letter from J. T. Morse, jr., settles 
 me in plan of writing Patrick Henry. Began work on it at 
 eleven, and did more in the evening. Shall first run over the 
 existing lives — beginning with Wirt. 
 
 204 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 205 
 
 Ithaca, 5 February, 1886. Read carefully over the Fontaine 
 manuscript, and was moved to write the first paragraph of the 
 first chapter. In afternoon with Cutler carried in debris from 
 the new stable — i. e., the kindling wood. Greatly enjoyed real 
 bodily labor; it reminded me of some of the pleasures of dear 
 old lost HiUcrof t. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 February, 1886. Writing and studying on Patrick 
 Henry. Wrote a bit on his inherited qualities and the talents 
 of his family on both sides. It quite reanimates to get at real 
 literary work again. 
 
 Ithaca, 7 August, 1886. I have worked on Patrick Henry 
 steadily till now. Have done first eight chapters — to end of 
 Continental Congress. Have had almost no interruptions since 
 my return from the Historical Association in May. Must knock 
 ofE now and take a complete rest at the seaside for a month. 
 
 Ithaca, 5 November, 1886. This evening at nine I finished 
 revision of Chapter X — Patrick Henry as a soldier. My labor 
 has been very strict and steady upon the book. 
 
 . very strict and steady upon the book. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 November, 1886. Worked till one on some gaps in 
 Chapter IX which I had left until I could get some expected 
 material from W. W. Henry. Had hoped to finish it to-day, but 
 shall need another morning for it. 
 
 Ithaca, 8 November, 1886. From half-past nine to one worked 
 on Chapter IX. Not quite done yet! But what is time? Thor- 
 oughness and care are the things. 
 
 Ithaca, ly November, 1886. Made much more progress than 
 usual on ,the first draft, which seemed to write itself; but 
 had not time to put through the typewriter only as far as p. 20. 
 My work to-day is the struggle in Virginia between the aristo- 
 
2o6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 cratic and democratic influences in the first state constitution 
 of Virginia. 
 
 Ithaca, 22 November, 1886. From nine to twelve forty- 
 five, on a final revision of Chapter XII (formerly XI), which 
 I have spent two weeks on. It is done and in the vault. 
 
 Ithaca, 26 November, 1886. Got on well with Patrick, but 
 am seriously retarded by not having the Journal of Virginia 
 house of delegates. A letter from Spofford says he is not per- 
 mitted to send books out of Washington. Wrote again to W. W. 
 Henry and others for books. Till they come I am stuck. How- 
 ever, the time is not wasted. 
 
 Ithaca, JO November, 1886. The books came this morning. 
 In an hour got two or three items of great value. Pushed on 
 with exhilaration and vim. Wrote to W. W. Henry urging him 
 to run up here for a visit. 
 
 Ithaca, 4 December, 1886. Had a great flow of composition 
 all the forenoon on the dictatorship question; wrote about 
 twenty pages, which will need to be carefully revised. 
 
 Ithaca, 8 December, 1886. Pushing through Patrick's first 
 year as governor. Hated to stop for dinner. Brain at full 
 tilt. 
 
 Ithaca, 10 January, 1887. Letter from J. T. Morse says he 
 wants to begin printing Patrick at once, if the publishers can 
 feel it safe to begin with an unfinished copy. 
 
 Ithaca, 21 January, 1887. Pitched into Patrick like fun, and 
 tried to make up for lost time yesterday. Succeeded in part. 
 Am dealing with his legislative career 1 781-4. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 207 
 
 Ithaca^ 24 January, 188/. A letter from Morse asks me 
 to telegraph him how much more copy I shall have, so that the 
 printer may make his estimates. "Probably two hundred 
 additional pages of manuscript unless you object." 
 
 Ithaca, 2Q January, i88y. Worked heavily over materials 
 for Patrick Henry's work on the new constitution, and knocked 
 off under fatigue. All the week rests on me. 
 
 Ithaca, 31 January, 188^. Letter from Morse tells of the 
 excess of materials. Troublesome. Wish I were publishing in 
 my own way. 
 
 Ithaca, 16 February, 188'/. Wrote to Morse asking if he 
 wishes manuscript all returned. Can't shorten what has been 
 written. Will try to shorten what remains. 
 
 Ithaca, IQ February, i88y. Finished revision of Chapter 
 XVIII; but must spend a few hours verifying quotations. This 
 point reached, what remains is comparatively easy. I feel 
 nearing the end. The brain work this week has been close and 
 intense, and I feel it. 
 
 Ithaca, 21 March, 1887. At work without interruption on 
 the last chapter of Patrick's Hfe. The chimes are now ringing 
 for one o'clock, and I have just finished copying the last words. 
 His death, which I have just described, seemed very real and 
 personal to me, and my eyes were moist as I wrote. 
 
 Ithaca, 25 March, i88y. A telegram from Morse announces 
 the reception in Boston of Patrick Henry. Now remains to be 
 heard the report of the printer on the manuscript. Can it be 
 squeezed into so small a space ? Am writing preface — a thing 
 I dearly love to do. It was in me to say, and had to come out 
 of me. I have a feeling in me which I am trying to satisfy as 
 to what it should be. 
 
2o8 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, 30 March, 1887. Am dawdling to-day. Have little 
 energy. Probably I feel the reaction from long and close work. 
 A week off would be good just now; but it isn't practicable. 
 Of late have had an idea of blending my projected literary study 
 of the American revolution with the general study of it — pre- 
 senting the whole in topics somewhat after the method of Lecky. 
 It means many years of work; perhaps greater resources than I 
 have; yet toward it my studies have unconsciously tended for 
 many years. Am waiting for the decision of the printer. Per- 
 haps it will come with the first galley proof. Am still a sick 
 man, as it were. My cold clings and gets increase. One of my 
 greatest needs is the frequent review of my own records of former 
 work, and a taking account of stock. 
 
 Ithaca, 5 April, i88y. Studying navigation and trade laws 
 of England — in seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Statutes 
 at large. This for lectures; ultimately for my new History of 
 the American revolution. Delighted to be at the sources. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 September, 188^. Study of first constitution of New 
 Hampshire for lectures. My mind dwells kindly upon the 
 plan of writing a history of the revolution somewhat after the 
 method of Lecky. 
 
 Ithaca, 16 September, 188^. At half-past three this afternoon, 
 as I was about to use the lawn mower, I saw the National Express 
 wagon drive up and produce a small square parcel from Hough- 
 ton, Mifflin and Company. It was the first ten copies of Pat- 
 rick Henry, f^ 
 K 
 
 Ithaca, 26 September, 1887. Received a letter from George 
 Bancroft about my new book, on the whole the most valuable 
 compliment I ever had. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 209 
 
 LETTER FROM GEORGE BANCROFT TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Newport J R. I., September 24, i88y 
 Dear brother Historl4n: 
 
 Many thanks, my dear friend, for your book on Patrick Henry. 
 It is thoroughly and excellently well done and so fascinating j 
 that it would let me attend to nothing else until I had finished 1 
 it. You have said all that there was to be said; you have said 
 it thoroughly well; you have rejected all the trash called tra- 
 dition which cannot stand the test of historic criticism. In | 
 retirement Patrick Henry could well say: "The American rev- | 
 olution is the grand operation assigned by the Deity to the men I 
 of this age in our country"; and he plainly felt happy in the as- | 
 surance that he himself was one of the most important of those / 
 men. Only I was a little surprised to find that Patrick Henry / 
 pronounced the ahen and sedition laws good and proper. 
 Ever most truly yours, 
 
 George Bancroft. 
 
 Ithaca, 30 September, iSSy. Andrew D. White greeted me this 
 morning with his old time brightness; thanked me for a copy of 
 Patrick, and added that he couldn't help puzzling over that 
 visit of Colonel Byrd to the sprightly widow. "Suppose he had 
 married her, who would Patrick Henry have been?" 
 
 Ithaca, p October, iSSy. Yesterday came a batch of news- 
 paper notices from the publishers. In the main pleasant — 
 though none truly critical or thorough. In evening read in 
 Life of Longfellow. Many personal allusions of great interest 
 to me. Still the work is fearfully padded with unimportant 
 matter. 
 
 Ithaca, 15 October, 188'j. A batch of newspaper notices about 
 Patrick Henry. A low growl from the Jeffersonians in the 
 Richmond dispatch. May indicate more. Hope so. Met 
 
2IO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Adams coming out of his office, and walked with him half an hour. 
 Asked his advice about my literary plans: First, shall I write 
 (a) History oj the American revolution; (b) Life of Washington; 
 (c) New edition of writings of Washington ? 
 
 He advised me against the latter (c) as taking years which 
 I can't now spare and involving work of a lower grade than I 
 might be doing; but thought I should do (b) and then (a). Even- 
 ing at home. Read aloud a little to the family in Dickens's 
 American notes, which seem like antediluvian history. 
 
 Ithaca, 17 October, i88y. Am tending to resume plan of writ- 
 ing History of the American revolution, C. K. Adams's talk 
 has steadied and spurred me. Read in library. Class work 
 takes the stuff out of a fellow. I much prefer lawn tennis. I 
 get newspaper notices of Patrick Henry every day, generally of 
 a helpful tone; some of them flippant and trashy. 
 
 Ithaca, I November, 1887. Began Whitney's Grammar and 
 Reader in preparation for our journey to Europe next March. 
 Trying to recover lost ground, being rusty. Shall keep rubbing 
 the rust off from now till next September and hope to be a rather 
 burnished Teuton by that time. Statement from the publishers 
 shows that Patrick Henry was sold to the number of about 
 fifteen hundred copies from September 17 to September 30. 
 
 Ithaca,' 28 November, 1887. There came by express to-day a 
 box from Washington which proved to be a large portrait of 
 George Bancroft, a noble and touching present. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 1888 
 
 Ithaca^ 10 February. Faculty meeting this afternoon. It 
 is interesting to watch the play of personal traits in these meet- 
 ings. Working at German. I'm a slow coach thereat. Only 
 by continual pounding can I get a thing into me. We are in 
 suspense respecting a European war and its possible bearing 
 on our plans for residence abroad. 
 
 Ithaca, 26 February. Still pounding away at German. Am 
 making some impression. 
 
 Ithaca, 8 March. This evening at a quarter to seven the good 
 Emperor William of Germany died at his palace in Berlin. The 
 news was in print here at four in the afternoon! His death 
 makes a deep and sorrowful impression on the Teutonic race; 
 and gives a deeper tint to the pathos of the situation in which 
 the imperial family are now placed through the dangerous illness 
 of the Crown Prince at San Remo. 
 
 Ithaca, 25 March. At St. John's gave my sermon on The 
 crime of Pontius Pilate. Being already ill, was so much pros- 
 trated that I had to spend the rest of the day in bed. So tired — 
 but spirit serene and grateful. 
 
 Ithaca, 4 April. The situation in Europe looks alarming. 
 Boulanger is the trouble in France, and the French people are 
 children. 
 
 My health unsatisfactory. Spring weakness and depression. 
 Suppose it is this eternal, disreputable, ill-mannered liver that is 
 at the bottom of the mischief. 
 
212 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, 10 April. Felt quite well last evening after my recent 
 
 illness. H came up to my room and talked for an hour. 
 
 Consulted him about a Latin title for a series of volumes I am 
 planning on lives of noted persons in this country. I had thought 
 of Americani memorahiles; he suggested Viri memorabiles, 
 which I shall adopt as giving me more range. I want to limit 
 myself to men in contact with America, though they need not 
 be Americans. After he left, my mind got greatly interested 
 in the project; it would be American history unfolded in a series 
 of biographies — each being as short as a rigorous exclusion 
 of minor matters would permit. I lay awake till nearly morning, 
 though I had much better have been asleep. 
 
 Ithaca, i6 April. Had a good sleep last night. After break- 
 fast went to my ofhce and did an hour's work. Home and 
 rested, then walked till nearly twelve — but not as vigorous 
 as a bull calf. News that Matthew Arnold died to-day at 
 Liverpool of heart disease. 
 
 Ithaca, i8 April. Roscoe Conkling died this morning and the 
 Emperor of Germany is said to be on his death-bed. Boulanger 
 is leading a shoddy Caesaristic movement in France. The Rus- 
 sian forces are said to be marching toward the Austrian frontier. 
 The face of the world seems troubled. My health is still unsatis- 
 factory. This lazy, obstructive, mulish liver of mine still re- 
 fuses to do his duty. I fear this climate is always to be a hard 
 one for me to live in, especially if I am to be without horseback 
 riding. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 April. At a reception met Goldwin Smith, with 
 whom I talked about Canadian poHtics, which he despises; says 
 politics is divided on no principle; is petty, mean, and corrupt 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 213 
 
 in its method; that no man of self-respect can engage in poHtical 
 life there, in consequence of the self-compromising engagements 
 he must make. He spoke of Sir John Macdonald as an old fox, 
 a cunning old politician, capable of every pretence and hypocrisy, 
 lately standing up in a revival meeting to be prayed for, and all 
 to catch revivalist votes; not in the least resembling Disraeli — 
 to whom he has often been compared. I was to hear Goldwin 
 Smith discuss the author of Lothair — whom he described as 
 a phrase-maker in poHtics, a manufacturer of platforms and 
 of poHtical catchwords, and of fertile imagination — all of which 
 Sir John was not. 
 
 Ithaca, 2g April. Goldwin Smith's talks here have had many 
 good personal bits. John Bright once asked him who was the 
 greatest citizen that England ever had; and when Goldwin 
 Smith replied that he could not tell. Bright said: "John Milton; 
 for besides his supreme greatness in literature, and especially 
 in poetry, he was most active, courageous, and influential in the 
 practical duties of the state." He told of the enormous physical 
 endurance of some famous Englishmen, such as Brougham, for 
 example. He said he could work day and night for a week and 
 have no sleep except what he could snatch in going to and fro 
 in his carriage. This he did during the trial of Queen Carohne. 
 Being summoned to her one day, and having not been in bed for 
 nearly a week, he dropped asleep as soon as he got into his car- 
 riage and slept till he arrived at the palace. He was almost 
 incapable of fatigue. Goldwin Smith also told the story of his 
 once calling at the house of Sir Roundel Palmer. The butler 
 hesitated about admitting him; first consented, and then said: 
 "I don't know that I ought to show you in; Sir Roundel has not 
 been in bed since Sunday." That was on Wednesday. Sir 
 Roundel was then attorney-general of England — the most 
 laborious office in England. 
 
214 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, 6 June. My last university exercise this year. Ex- 
 cessively hot, 94°. This sudden heat is overwhelming. It is 
 now late at night — my last at this Hillcrof t for fifteen months — 
 perhaps forever. The clock strikes eleven as I write this. 
 
 Hannover, 23 June. For an hour before breakfast practised 
 on the passive voice; and studied till Herr G came at half- 
 past eleven. A vigorous Stunde, till half-past one moistened by 
 a bottle of beer which I placed on the table for him. Nothing 
 yet to be learned about the Chicago convention and the Re- 
 publican nomination for President — though it looks as though 
 Blaine would be nominated in spite of all his protestations of 
 unwiUingness. News that Stanley has been wounded in mid- 
 Africa, and is having a rough time of it with hordes of the hostile 
 natives. 
 
 Hannover, 24 June. In morning at eleven to Marktkirche 
 to attend mourning service in honor of the late Frederick III. 
 A great church, built for the Roman service, but having now 
 the neglected look of Lutheran places of worship. Service, 
 musical chiefly. Very little appearance of devotion in the 
 congregation. 
 
 Hannover, 4 July. Here in Hannover we celebrate the national 
 holiday by pitching into the German language with the same 
 spirit that animated Jefferson one hundred and twelve years 
 ago in pitching into the Elector of Hannover. 
 
 Worked in Otto and Eisenbach on the auxiliaries. Think I 
 have got on top of them at last. 
 
 Hannover, 17 July. At half -past five I walked out for my con- 
 stitutional. Went to the schiitzenfest, but the rain and mud 
 gave an extra touch of sordidness and vulgarity to the perform- 
 ance. It is the coarse German boor at his diversions. 
 
 i 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 215 
 
 This Hannover is to me a rather wonderful city. In my 
 whole month here I have not seen a beggar nor a lewd woman 
 by day or by night. No roughness of speech or manner; a 
 universal amenity; the voices of the people soft, refined, quiet, 
 often very musical. I call it a civilized community. 
 
 I am greatly impressed by the identity in race of these north- 
 west Deutschlanders with the Englanders and New Englanders. 
 Twelve hundred years ago some of these people settled in Eng- 
 land; two hundred and fifty years ago some of them who had 
 gone to England settled in Massachusetts, etc. But the race 
 type has been preserved by all three groups. Most of the 
 faces here are of exactly the same look as those of New Haven, 
 London, or Ithaca. I feel that I am here in the Older Home 
 of our race; and that in trying to learn German I am merely 
 trying to get the language of my cousins — a variation, like 
 English, from the ancient speech of our common forefathers. 
 
 Hannover, 2j July. Began to work at a quarter past nine, 
 but after an hour gave it up. Ging fort. Did errands. In the 
 afternoon went to the gardens of the Polytechnicum and drank 
 of the royal milk, which tasted quite like democratic milk. 
 
 I am impressed by the all-pervading presence of the military 
 habit here. Soldiers in uniform, officers in splendid dress and 
 with grand strides are to be seen in every street. Every morning 
 soon after daybreak is to be heard the tramp of soldiers. The 
 children wear uniform caps in the school according to their 
 classes. From infancy they become used to the symbolism of 
 dress and color as designating graduations of rank and authority. 
 Every male person, is, was, or is to be a soldier. The gait and 
 posture of the citizens indicate military training. Many of 
 their little customs and movements in the street — as salutations — 
 are military. A gentleman from Bonn was here to dinner a while 
 ago, with his wife. Frau Schon told me they had nine children, 
 
2i6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 eight of them boys. I applauded him. "Yes," he said, "we 
 supply eight soldiers to defend the Fatherland." 
 
 Wolfenbiittel, 26 July. Arrived here alone in a pouring rain. 
 Before supper took a stroll through this quaint old town. 
 
 I am taking in German through all the pores of my skin. 
 
 Frau B tells me that the old sewing woman who comes in 
 
 every morning to help in the housework heard almost with 
 consternation that an Amerikaner was in the house, "1st er 
 sehr schwarz?" was her first question. When she entered the 
 room where I was sitting to get my boots, she sidled away from 
 me in a sort of fear lest my aboriginal, murderous propensities 
 were still unsubdued, yet her curiosity to inspect me was also 
 very great, and her investigation was a queer mixture of blink- 
 ing and staring. Another old German woman with whom I have 
 been talking seemed greatly impressed by the fact that I was 
 from America, and asked me, among other things, "if America 
 were not twice as large as Wolfenbiittel." 
 
 We went over to call on Professor von Heinemann, the chief 
 of this great Bibliothek. Wonderful collection of treasures 
 and a most admirable building. Held in my hand the lead ink- 
 stand which Luther threw at the Devil. Was very much im- 
 pressed by an original portrait of Luther which under the glass 
 had the very tints of Hfe. Stood also in the very room in the 
 old house in which Lessing wrote Nathan. Over the front door 
 is the inscription, "Hier lebte, schrieb, dichtete Lessing 1777- 
 178 1." Walked with Professor von Heinemann. 
 
 Said he had no directors over him; was kaiser und konig. 
 The people took off their hats to him as if they thought so too. 
 
 This is a quaint, picturesque, mediaeval nest of a city. It 
 seems as if I were wandering in a mediaeval community. The 
 placid and outre-mer sentiment which fills my heart to-night 
 is something to be recalled in after years. But what a sad 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 217 
 
 mistake that I did not come to Germany when I was a young 
 man! But I am only too grateful to be here now. 
 
 August 2. Here in Wolfenbiittel, and to-day fifty-three years 
 old. Have studied hard all day. Am hammering away at 
 Otio. 
 
 Wolfenbiittel, 5 August. To Garrison Kirche 8:30 A. m. and 
 5:00 p. M., with much rest, peregrination, and letter- writing 
 between. Heard Probst Emil Rothe. He looks like Spurgeon; 
 is the first real orator I have heard in Germany; his speech was 
 delicious to listen to; his action vivacious and natural; his spirit 
 very devout and earnest. Was greatly attracted to him. 
 
 I am brooding over the Hterary work I am to undertake when 
 I go home. Strongly moved to^try my hand first at an historical 
 novel: Virginia, i6y6, Bacon's rebellion. Make it faithful to 
 the facts of history; a living, stirring, vivacious picture of the 
 time and place. 
 
 Braunschweig, 10 August. At ten we went to the Museum 
 and spent two hours there with great delight. Besides some 
 pictures of great importance, I was interested in two rings of 
 Luther's and a ring of Maria Stuart, and profoundly interested 
 in a full-length figure of Frederick the Great, in the very costume 
 he wore in the Seven Years' War, a httle, old, wizened, spindle- 
 shanked, big-eyed, sallow anatomy of a man. 
 
 The day has been sultry; last night also. I lay awake several 
 hours, possessed by the project of the novel. The scheme of 
 the plot, and many incidents, poured in upon my mind, and I 
 revelled in the still delight of arranging them in order in chapters. 
 This morning I have jotted down as much of this as time has 
 permitted, to save it before it vanishes away. 
 
 Blankenburg, 14 August. I write far up the Httle moimtain 
 toward Teufelsmauer. We have found a refined and friendly 
 
2i8 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 family in the midst of glorious scenery, with dehcious air, quiet, 
 fascinating walks, and everything to entice us to health and 
 happiness. To-night, after dark, as I was strolling alone near 
 the Hotel Heidelberg, I was spoken to by a person approaching 
 me hurriedly. I said in EngHsh: "I beg your pardon?" 
 He instantly repHed with an AngHcan accent: "I beg yours; 
 I was looking for a friend and mistook you for him." Then, 
 from a Uttle distance, he turned and said: "Are you an Eng- 
 lishman?" "No, I am an American." "Ah," repUed he, "I 
 am an Enghshman; so we are cousins." The speech was gracious 
 and had for me a pleasant sound here in the Hartz. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO MAJOR TYLER 
 
 Blankenburg im Hdrtz, August i6, 1888. 
 Dear brother Jack: 
 
 On the thirteenth we came to this most exquisite and ex- 
 hilarating place, amid famous historic and romantic scenes, 
 where we can drink in health and strength. We are Hkely to 
 remain here several weeks and then go to Berlin. . . . We 
 have welcomed all your letters, newspapers, etc. Glad to get all 
 personal news — particularly of the canine sort. What you tell 
 us about Pip comforts the very cockles of our hearts. It may 
 not be a gracious thing to say, but there are not a great many 
 two-footed friends in America over whom our hearts yearn as 
 they do over that small quadruped. ... I wish you could 
 imagine what a wholesome spot this is, and so cheap. You might 
 spend a half year in the Hartz and make money out of it. 
 
 With lovej Moses. 
 
 Wernigerode, 20 August. Here I am, alone, just settled in my 
 quaint little room, in this ancient rambling house of Frau Pas- 
 torin Tappe. On the train I met a fine old English clergyman 
 who beheves that the Teutonic people are descended from 
 Ephraim. As I approached this house to-day with my dienst- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 219 
 
 mann carrying my luggage in his old wheelbarrow, I read on the 
 wall of the Rauthaus the date 1524 A. D. I am at last in a 
 perfectly unspoiled German city, about to taste a bit of genuine 
 German Ufe in a German family. The air about me here hath 
 an old-time flavor, but to-day I have felt depressed by the ap- 
 palling difficulty of mastering this awful language. It seems 
 as if I can never learn to speak it. For this mood I am prepared; 
 and I shall keep at work just the same. I set apart a year 
 for this purpose. The year is to be devoted to it, whatever be 
 the result. I am in a good German family, quite isolated from 
 English and even in a typical old German Stadt. 
 
 At haK-past four, with the same escort, walked through the 
 grounds of the Schloss, and witnessed preparations for the 
 great festival to-morrow in celebration of the silver wedding of 
 the Graf of Wernigerode. After Abendessen we began to read 
 in the parlor, but were interrupted by the sound of a gim and the 
 noise of fireworks. Crowds of people were out. A curious 
 study for me in national habits, ideas, and politics. 
 
 Wernigerode, 2j August. The day has been surrendered to 
 the fest in honor of the Graf and Grafin. I witnessed the pro- 
 cession of the trades through the Stadt and the grounds of the 
 Schloss, a wonderful spectacle. In the evening saw the Count 
 and Countess with their children and guests ride through the 
 streets amid vast crowds of people, shouts, iUuminations, etc. 
 How ciu*ious a thing this is. Warum? No one can exactly tell. 
 It seems like a living chapter in feudalism. Am working at 
 both ends of Otto each day. Frau Tappe gives me an* hour in 
 the morning. I hear all the German I can contain and more too; 
 and strain for utterance. I feel my impotence and imbecility. 
 I am at the point of great darkness in the work. I do not pro- 
 pose to give it up; but its vastness, complexity, and hardness 
 oppress me with a sense of the impossibihty of my task. 
 
220 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Wernigerodey 26 August. Letter from home containing sad 
 news in it. It was that my beloved Bishop Harris died on Tues- 
 day last, August 21, at the Langham Hotel in London. When I 
 first saw him in the pulpit he seemed to me like the Archangel 
 Michael, and I have always since then thought of him as a chival- 
 rous and resplendent soldier of God. He came to the diocese 
 nine years ago in the glory of a splendid manhood, with seemingly 
 unbounded health and strength; and he has died of the mighty 
 work he has done. How tired he was when I last saw him! 
 I think of him now as so happy in the perfect rest of Paradise. 
 But what a loss! what a sorrow for us who are left! God help 
 me to do the work that He appoints, and to remember that the 
 time for work here may not be long. How very near to me comes 
 this death! I loved that man; he was younger and far stronger 
 than I, and I expected him to outHve me. 
 
 I do feel a trifle lonely and forlorn. I see but little light before 
 me in this tough study of German. Shall I ever be able to imder- 
 stand these sounds that I hear all about me, and to repeat them 
 to myself? If I live, I shall. That is, I shall keep hammering 
 away; but it is so schwer. 
 
 Wernigerode, 2g August. It is about half-past five in the 
 afternoon. I am seated on a bench far up on one of the wooded 
 streets back of the town. Sunshine, long shadows, delicious 
 cool air, the odor of pines, a world of trees and rich green foliage, 
 restful silence qualified by the tinkling of the bells on the home- 
 coming herds, and now and then the voice of a rambler. For 
 the first time at Wernigerode I walked out alone to-day. It 
 seems a rehef from the mental strain of conversation in German. 
 I take in the calmness and repose of nature. Long, long shall 
 I remember this delicious spot — this ramble alone with God 
 and the angels, and thoughts of my dearly beloved Bishop 
 Harris. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 221 
 
 I have studied to-day since eight o'clock, with two hours 
 for dinner and rest — seven hours. 
 
 Blankenhurg, 5 September. Have had a wonderful excursion 
 to-day. Started for Thale about nine. Had the luck to get 
 a droschke from Thale returning empty. At Bahnhof took 
 nourishment. Then walked to Hexentansplatz — the point 
 from which the princess leaped; took more nourishment; next 
 through a wald, escorted by a brief trager; reached the path of 
 descent into the deep abyss; at Konigsruhe, Bodethal, where 
 I again took nourishment; then slowly ascended to Rosstrappe, 
 saw the imperishable hoof-print in the rock, listened to the re- 
 verberations of the pistol shot, looked down upon the enormous 
 and magnificent gorge, and the vast glory of all this rock 
 scenery; then at the hotel reposed for an hour, enjoyed the wide 
 outlook over the earth, and likewise took nourishment once more, 
 and at half-past four started for Blankenburg. Missing the 
 way, lost three quarters of an hour. Came home through a 
 most beautiful forest. The most impressive scenery I have 
 beheld since I was at Rigi and Chamonix. 
 
 Blankenburg, 6 September. My experience in mountain climb- 
 ing is that I do not feel the fatigue till the following day. So 
 to-day I am conscious of yesterday. Have spent the time 
 socially and idly, taking mine ease in mine own inn. 
 
 Wolfenbuttel, ly September. Am in glorious trim for work. 
 A good day I have had of it. From eight till nearly one, steady 
 push, then from half-past two to five. The last hour and a 
 half were a Stunde with Frau B . But I am in a deep pit of in- 
 credulity as to my power to learn or master the German language; 
 
222 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 yet if I can keep this thing going for another twelvemonth or 
 so, some sort of good result must come. 
 
 WolfenbuUel, 20 September. I had coffee at half-past six and 
 worked steadily till about half-past twelve; then from three till 
 four, when my eyes began to notify me that I had done enough. 
 So I pushed out into the country alone, going due eastward, 
 across fields toward the Brocken, whose noble peak I saw before 
 me. I write this sitting on the leafy cushion of the earth, leaning 
 against a tree, in the deep centre of a huge forest which I have 
 been exploring. The scene is full of loveliness and repose, se- 
 clusion, spiritual joy, and a silence that speaks tenderly to my 
 very heart. Sitting here in this beautiful sohtude, I cannot think 
 this a very bad world, nor can I easily realize that some millions 
 of my fellow countrymen four thousand miles to the west are 
 getting very much excited over a presidential election, which, 
 I believe, is to come off some time this fall. Later: I walked 
 farther and farther into that beautiful forest, tempted by its 
 enticing loveliness; and at last, when the sun was nearly down at 
 the horizon, I discovered that I had lost my reckoning. I 
 walked on and on. It began to get dark. I could find no end 
 or limit to the forest. I began to think I might have to spend the 
 night there. Finally I came to a wagon road. I determined 
 to follow it till I should come out of the forest. I did so. At 
 last, after perhaps three-quarters of an hour of rapid walking I 
 emerged. All was strange to me. I could see a Dorf about a 
 mile off. No house nearer. Toward the Dorf I walked. At 
 last, not far from it, I saw a man walking in a field, though it 
 was quite dark. The result of our conversation was that I 
 had come to this Dorf which was fully two Stunden from 
 Wolfenbiittel. I asked him to guide me back through the 
 forest, for which I paid one mark. I reached home at about 
 nine. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 323 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS MOTHER 
 
 Wolfenbuttelj Germany , September 2j, 1888 
 My DEAR Mother: 
 
 I was very happy to get, some time ago, your nice letter of 
 July 19, and I took some pride in showing your clear, neat hand- 
 writing to several German friends here as a specimen of 
 the workmanship of an American lady of eighty-one summers. 
 I am in magnificent health. Indeed, there is something won- 
 derful about the German climate. Never before have I been 
 able to work for so many hours a day, with brain and body, 
 and feel so Httle fatigue. I find the people universally kind 
 and courteous, many of them of most charming manners, happy, 
 and making one another happy. 
 
 I greatly enjoy going to church. At first the service seemed 
 very strange and not impressive; but I am coming to feel that 
 it has much beauty and power. Luther perhaps retained some- 
 what more of the method of the Roman worship than did the 
 later English reformers. The service is nearly always chanted 
 by the priest and the choir; there are no responses from the 
 congregation, and it is only in the long old hymns that are sung, 
 and that form an important part of the service, that the con- 
 gregation have any direct part in the service. 
 
 I am greatly impressed by the efl&ciency of the women in 
 Germany, and by their wonderful health and strength. In the 
 country, where I walk every day, I see on many a farm the entire 
 family in the field — father, mother, boys, and girls — all work- 
 ing together from dawn to dark. Every member of the family 
 begins to work as soon as he or she can toddle. Even the babies 
 (of which the multitude passes all human computation) have to 
 go out into the fields too, and amuse themselves as best they 
 can — with an occasional interview, by way of needed nourish- 
 ment, with the maternal bounty. Yesterday as we walked in 
 the country we saw such a sight; only in this case the two 
 babies were lying in a little wagon, and were yelling furiously. 
 The family were picking up potatoes in a field too far off to hear 
 the infantile music. When we got along to where the mother 
 
224 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 was we told her that the children were crying. "Ach Gott!" 
 said she, "it will do them good. They've been fed and will be 
 fed again. Now I am busy. The babies are in the care of 
 God. Let them cry; their lungs will be the stronger for it." So 
 Deutschland has become mighty, and has conquered France, and 
 can do it again. . . . Your affectionate son, 
 
 Moses. 
 
 WolfenbuUel, 24 September. Eight to one with dear old Otto 
 — in fact, began a new attack on those infernal irregular verbs. 
 Was not quite so fresh and vigorous as usual. Newspapers 
 from America containing many things about the life, death, and 
 funeral of Bishop Harris. My eyes were bHnded with tears, and 
 my mind too full of the thought of that splendid Christian leader 
 to be able longer to work well over Otto. 
 
 Berlin, 10 October. After a wash and a bite I walked to 
 Unter den Linden and through it. I saw the famous street first 
 under electric light — broad, stately, imperial, beautiful, but 
 not equal in its impressiveness to Paris. Was conscious of the 
 roar of travel all night — a contrast to the utter peace and 
 silence of dear little Wolf enbiittel. I have been here long enough 
 to make up my mind not to stay here very long. Shall settle 
 down in Leipzig for my steady and heavy work in Deutschland. 
 
 Berlin, 16 October. Here I am in the lecture room in which 
 Doctor Seler is to lecture on Die alten Kulturvdlker Amerikas. 
 The diaboHcal janitor came in just before the lecture began and 
 corked the room up tight; we sweltered and gasped and grew 
 stupid in the foul air, while the lecturer himself, a somewhat 
 fidgety, youngish man, spoke so fast and so indistinctly that I 
 could not follow him well. Another fiasco! 
 
 Berlin, 18 October. We all went this morning to the Zoological 
 Garden and spent several happy hours with the crocodiles, mon- 
 keys, elephants, camels, chimpanzees, and other brethren and 
 sisters. 
 
 I 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 225 
 
 22 October. Left Berlin and reached Wittenberg at ten, where 
 I spent most of the day. Deeply interested. It was good to 
 see memorials of great men that did not belong to the Hohen- 
 zollern family. I saw everything that is celebrated in the chroni- 
 cles of St. Baedeker. Was most affected by the sight of Luther's 
 house, the court of the old monastery, the double chair of plain 
 wood in which he and his wife sat by the window, and, further, 
 by what I saw in the Stadtkirche, where Luther preached, and 
 where the communion was first administered in both kinds. 
 I wandered about the place at my leisure, breathed in the very 
 air which Luther breathed, looked up to the same sky which for 
 so many years hung over his head, and mused on the simple 
 greatness of the genius, the courage, the wonderful work of that 
 peasant's son — a much greater than Bismarck or Frederick 
 the Great — the mightiest and most benignant personality in 
 two thousand years of German history. 
 
 At about half-past three started for Leipzig, which I 
 approached with a feeling of loneliness. 
 
 Leipzig^ 24 October. Heard my first German lecture. It was 
 from Friedberg, jurist, on Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, strong, 
 lucid, well delivered; and to my great comfort found myself 
 able to follow it in substance. 
 
 As I came out at ten, saw great throngs of students in the 
 court or central plaza; buzzing — a scene wondrously famihar; 
 and these boys look and act and talk very much like the young- 
 sters whom I have been encountering every year since before 
 the time that these particular students were born. 
 
 Leipzig, 25 October. Nine to ten. I am now in the lecture 
 room, trying to hear Wuchsmuth. He stands in a lazy way, 
 leaning back against the blackboard, his hands in his pockets, 
 or one of them rubbing his face; his utterance hesitating and 
 then abrupt, now clear and now inaudible, his voice dying away 
 
226 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 into a whispered cadence. I can't catch much, scarcely the drift; 
 far less than Friedberg yesterday. He seems to meditate as 
 he goes on; to be hardly conscious of his audience and to dis- 
 course in a sort of monologue — thinking aloud to himself — 
 certainly not to me. Now his hands are behind his coat tails. 
 Now the clock strikes. 
 
 Ten to eleven. Heard Luthard on The Gospel according to St. 
 John. Large room; crowded full; several standing; some students 
 with cigars in mouths and smoke coming out. Doctor Luthard, 
 a man of perhaps sixty, smooth face, white hair, bright eyes, 
 large, firm mouth, rich, deep voice, and eloquent temperament, 
 a noble, venerable person; evidently greatly loved and admired. 
 He began as if in prayer; standing, leaning forward over 
 his crossed arms. After some introductory words, in gentle, 
 deep tones, he straightened up and looked the orator and preacher 
 and apostle; presently he sat down and so proceeded. I was 
 at the farther end of the room, but heard him and under- 
 stood him well. From eleven to twelve, hearing Winterschied, 
 a jurist; great room, crowded full. The lecturer, an old man, 
 with the look and manner of a shrewd and rather foxy old ad- 
 vocate. He speaks in a conversational tone, rapidly and not 
 audibly so far as this farther end of the room is concerned. 
 Being unable to hear him, I wait patiently for the end of the 
 hour by writing these lines. I note that here the departments 
 of law, theology, and philosophy seem locally blended and not 
 separated, as is the case with us. Thus here are three or four 
 hundred law students; in the next room are as many theo- 
 logians. 
 
 When Winterschied came in some began to applaud; but this 
 was suppressed by a sudden imperative hiss. 
 
 From four to five, lecture, by Doctor Lindner, on Religious 
 Geschichte. Only four students in the room. The lecture, a 
 good beginning, scientific of course, learned, no fire; a little 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 227 
 
 too fast in delivery for me; the room almost dark before he 
 got through. 
 
 Then from six to seven heard Maurenbrecher's first lecture 
 on German history, 1840-80. Room crowded full; eager stu- 
 dents; when Maurenbrecher came in, warmly applauded. A big, 
 burly fellow with a slouch hat, which he slung on the corner of 
 his desk. He took his chair; in a quiet, friendly tone, with a rich 
 and well modulated voice, began to read his lecture, with which 
 he was so familiar that he scarcely seemed to read. Almost 
 at once he began to warm up; grew emphatic, now and then 
 almost impassioned; brought his big hand down on the desk 
 so that it trembled, and his stamp on the platform made a little 
 earthquake. It was a preliminary view of European history 
 from the French revolution. Evidently to go into a book. 
 Attention eager to the end. A real success, a brilHant lecture; 
 and as he went out, they again cheered him lustily. As we came 
 out at seven, it was fine to see the huge throng of students from 
 other rooms as well pouring along. 
 
 At six went to Maurenbrecher's room; crowded; had to 
 stand throughout; room hot, audience not perfectly absorbed. 
 He described the Monroe doctrine as if it were Canning's product 
 and communicated by him to America. 
 
 Leipzig, 27 October. Worked at Grimm's Mdrchen from eight 
 to twelve. Found a tough place and made only ten pages. 
 Then went to hear Professor Biedermann on History of German 
 literature of the nineteenth century. I am now writing in 
 his room, where I wait for his entrance. There he comes! 
 a gray-haired, gray-whiskered man of about sixty-five, with a 
 sensitive face and temperament; sad-looking, rather; he goes 
 toward the desk with a sort of nervous, almost timid, movement; 
 looks as if the world and especially Bismarck were not on his 
 side. 
 
228 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Alas! his voice is weak, feminine in quality; the street cars 
 rattle in the street close by and often kill out entirely these 
 feebly uttered, yet refined and interesting, sentences. I listen 
 hard. I sit about fifteen feet in front of the desk, but I can only 
 catch a word here and there. But I like him; he is a refined 
 gentleman, a sensitive scholar. He has some written notes on 
 the deskjwhich he occasionally glances at; but his lecture is a real, 
 conversational discourse — the flower of critical and discriminate 
 thought from a cultivated mind. Each professor has a special 
 student — a famulus — who writes and posts notices, is present 
 at each lecture and looks after the conveniences. At three in 
 the afternoon heard first lecture of a privat-docent. Dr. Gess, 
 on Recent German history. Admirable in all respects. A fine 
 speaker; a clear, orderly thinker. Full of promise this young 
 fellow. Then called on Dr. Gregory, the American member of 
 the Leipzig faculty. Our talk was largely practical. He has 
 been here since 1873. Too late for a lecture at five which I 
 wanted to go to; besides, was tired, and walked about the city, 
 enjoying my solitude and the sights of the streets. 
 
 Leipzig, 30 October. Heard lecture on political economy by 
 Warschaur, a privat-docent; very able, but too rapid in speech 
 for me. His nose proclaims from afar his Abrahamic ancestry; 
 while his neck scarf, watch chain, and general appearance give 
 intimation that he is a veritable dealer in ready-made clothes 
 for men. His voice was pleasant, and his manner, though 
 touched by Judaic self-assertion, was not disagreeable; more- 
 over, he seemed to be the undoubted possessor and distributor 
 of wit, though I did not understand the point. 
 
 Five to six, came to the Probe-vorlesung of young Dr. Fliigel, 
 who thus enters on his career as a privat-docent. He was in 
 full evening dress, white kid gloves. The professors came in 
 with him and took a front seat, and were rather uneasy listeners. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 229 
 
 He read too fast, and was told it by one of them. It was on 
 Shelley. He has a deHcate, refined look — as of a poet and 
 artist. 
 
 Leipzig, 31 October. No wonder the Germans have an awe of 
 their Kaiser. It rained hard yesterday and in the night; but 
 as the Kaiser comes to-day, the heavens forbear to send down 
 their flood. It is true Kaiser weather, they say. Read in 
 Bible till eleven; then Jeannette and I sauntered forth to see 
 the demonstration; it is Reformation's feast day, the dedication 
 of a war monument, and the first visit of the young Kaiser. 
 The city has been long preparing for the great day and has spent 
 money lavishly on decorations, which are really splendid. We 
 wandered about among the throngs and finally took our stand 
 opposite the Dresdener Bahnhof , where the Kaiser was to arrive. 
 When he came out from the station I climbed up a gas-post in 
 order to see him and the King of Saxony. 
 
 Leipzig, 5 November. Four to five went to hear Overbeck's 
 lecture on Greek mythology; a genial, elderly gentleman; speaks 
 deliberately and composedly, clearly, with frequent bubbles 
 of mirth. Decided to take his lectures. He is a great authority. 
 The next hour, five to six, at Maurenbrecher's lecture on the 
 Sources for recent German history, and from six to seven heard 
 his lecture on Frederick William IV. Decided to take him too. 
 Find four hours together rather a trial for the head, and shall 
 be content with three a day hereafter. 
 
 Leipzig, 6 November. Presidential election at home to-day. 
 Profoundly ignored in this country. Made a call on Professor 
 Overbeck and asked permission to attend his course. He was 
 very affable and easy, with his characteristic touch of playfulness. 
 After two made a similar call on Maurenbrecher, a big-belHed, 
 big-hearted, strong-winded German, with a very cordial manner. 
 
230 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Said he once had the good luck to meet Bancroft, and was much 
 impressed by his talk. Spoke of Von Hoist, but added, as an 
 historical writer, "we cannot control him." I wondered if the 
 German government had gone so far as that. Presently he added 
 that Von Hoist's materials, his Quellen, were not accessible 
 in Germany; and so I understood that he meant "verify." He 
 spoke of calling upon me, and when I mentioned that my wife 
 and daughter were with me, he took up a circular of his course 
 of pubhc lectures on Literature (lo m. for two persons) and asked 
 if their attention had been called to this — a bit of naivete 
 which I could not have been capable of. His wife is a German, 
 but bom and educated in England, and speaking English. 
 Maurenbrecher spoke English, but with much hesitation. 
 
 Leipzig, 7 November. Three to four, heard young Doctor Gess. 
 His room cold and we were directed to another one. A visitor 
 and myself were his only Zuhorer; and his lecture was directed 
 at me. He looked me squarely in the eyes all the time. 
 
 Leipzig, g November. We have^ decisive news at last of the 
 result of the Presidential election. Cleveland is severely de- 
 feated. Nearly every Northern state has gone against him. 
 Alas! Hill is elected Governor of New York; likewise the Tam- 
 many candidate for Mayor of New York. This means that 
 Cleveland has been slaughtered in New York by his ovm party. 
 It was greatly to Hill's interest to be elected Governor himself 
 and to have Cleveland defeated for the presidency. 
 
 Before Doctor Overbeck's lecture this afternoon his famulus 
 brought me a message from Overbeck requesting me to apply to 
 the University authorities for permission to hear lectures. As 
 Dr. Gregory had told me that no such application was necessary, 
 and as Dr. Overbeck had cordially responded to my request to 
 be allowed to attend his lectures, this message brought me some 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 231 
 
 surprise and annoyance. Resumed Otto^ which I had laid aside 
 since my last week in Wolfenbiittel. Began a review from be- 
 ginning. Shall continue daily readings in Miiller's Geschichte. 
 This afternoon went for counsel and help to Gregory about the 
 muddle into which his previous direction has got me. He flatted 
 out completely. I find, amid some humiliation, that I ought to 
 have gone to the rector, and have got a Zuhorer Schein and 
 to pay for my lectures. This is what I shall now do. 
 
 Leipzig, 12 November. Called on Rector Hofmann and was 
 most courteously received and my arrangement to hear lec- 
 tures without matriculation was satisfactorily made. Dr. 
 Overbeck did not read this afternoon. Perhaps the avaricious 
 old cuss is sick. Should think he would suffer from gripes in 
 his trousers pocket. From three to four, Dr. Gess. I was his 
 only auditor. He began smilingly, as if it were comical. I looked 
 grave and serious. At the end he spoke to his audience from 
 his chair and said that he would be unable to lecture next Satur- 
 day. We had some talk further and he accompanied me to 
 the Lese Halle. 
 
 Leipzig, 25 November. Completes my first month in Leipzig. 
 On the whole I have less confidence in my ability to acquire 
 German than when I landed in June. 
 
 Leipzig, 5 December. Eight to one Otto, and began to read 
 Geschichte der Schlacht bei Leipzig. Have taken too many 
 lectures, and feel the effects of overwork — insomnia, etc. I 
 take the afternoon for a visit to some of the battlefields. I have 
 passed through Thonberg, and am now standing at the Denk- 
 mal to S. E. "Hier weilte Napoleon am 18 Oktober, 18 13, 
 die Kampfe der Volkersschlacht beobachtend." ... I am 
 now on the Hiigel der Monarchen, sitting in front of the Denk- 
 mal. On a tablet is this: " Gott war mit uns. Hier verweilten 
 in der Schlacht bei Leipzig am 18 Oktober, 1813, die 3 ver- 
 
232 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 biindeten Monarchen, Kaiser Franz I von Ostreich, Kaiser 
 Alex. I von Russland, Konig Friedrich Wilhelm III von Preus- 
 sen, und waren Zeugen der ausserordentlichen Tapferkeit ihrer 
 Truppen." 
 
 I walked back to Probsthayda, and thence to Gonnerwitz 
 and home by Pferdebahn. Could see between Probsthayda and 
 Gonnerwitz the two stations of the enemy, that of Napoleon and 
 that of the three monarchs, and could realize partly the scene. 
 
 Three to four, with Gess. His only auditor. He spoke to me 
 informally at the opening and suggested that he should shorten 
 his lecture that we might walk in the fine weather. In our 
 walk he gave me a good account of the first King of Saxony, 
 Napoleon's ally, a man without miHtary capacity or courage; 
 after battle of Jena made his own terms with Napoleon, by 
 whom he was advanced from Kurfiirst to King. In the battle 
 of Leipzig the King stayed within the city in a house (which Gess 
 showed me) and even concealed himself in the cellar. When the 
 true monarchs, victorious, came into the Markt Platz with their 
 troops, the King of Saxony, with only an adjutant, went out to 
 them and stood before them cap in hand, supplicating mercy; 
 but they would not speak to him. He was sent as prisoner to 
 Berhn. 
 
 Leipzig, i6 December. With Consul Millar visited Halle. 
 I was captivated. In the chief university building is a large 
 clock audible in all the lecture rooms and striking every quarter- 
 hour so that the lecturer can tell just how fast the time is slip- 
 ping through his fingers. The benches and desks in the room 
 were as plain as usual, but under each long table ran a shelf — 
 so that each student had a place for his CoUegienmappe, Brod- 
 chen, u. s. w. Consul Millar told me that the Saxons are hated 
 and even laughed at all over Germany for their amiability 
 not always connected with high intelligence. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 233 
 
 Leipzig, 20 December. I heard to-day Wiindt, said to stand 
 at the head of the physiological psychologists of Germany. 
 Room large and full; applauded cordially as he came in and went 
 out. A very plain, even homely and rather insignificant look- 
 ing man of perhaps fifty; apparently not robust; with the air, 
 say, of a journeyman tailor afflicted with dyspepsia and dis- 
 couraged on account of lack of work. He began in a very quiet 
 but earnest voice; he was grave throughout; often wrote on the 
 blackboard, and often turned quite around and talked to the 
 blackboard instead of the audience; something in his tones 
 sounded to me pathetic, as if the gloom of his doctrine had cast 
 its shadows upon his soul. His manner continued quiet, but 
 earnest and winning; his words were spoken deliberately, but with 
 a sort of tender and genuine cadence; and without any apparent 
 effort to hold his audience he held them. Often he leaned for- 
 ward upon his desk, where he stood, his hands extended in front, 
 and both moving in nervous sympathy with his thought. By 
 appointment with Dr. Ewald Fliigel went to GohHs, where we 
 saw the house in which poor Schiller wrote his Hymn to joy — 
 a very humble mansion indeed. 
 
 Leipzig, 31 December. The consul invited us to drink punch 
 at his house to-night. 
 
 So ends this good year 1888. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 1889 
 
 Leipzig, I January. Feel unaccountably depressed; the mis- 
 takes of my life, the defects of my character, oppressed me; the 
 littleness of what I have done in any direction compared with 
 my real opportunities of doing much gave me a sense of failure, 
 and the fear that every opportunity was slipping away beyond 
 my reach; along with this came the self-reproach that in the 
 precious and few autumn hours of life I had needlessly come away 
 from my unfinished work, and was spending on mere by-play 
 and pleasant loitering the time and the vitality which are needed 
 for steady, persistent work at home. 
 
 Self-abnegation vs. selfishness. Sympathy and help vs. self- 
 absorption. DeHberation vs. impulsiveness. Self-control vs. 
 self-indulgence. Perseverance vs. project-shiftliness. Every one 
 thinks he could do better if he might live his life over again. 
 The new year gives every man that opportunity. Let him for 
 the future rectify the blunders of the past. Every new day 
 1^' a new career. 
 
 Leipzig, 2 January, By appointment called on Professor 
 Workman from Victoria University, Canada. Workman ex- 
 plained to me his theory of inspiration, which he calls the Com- 
 munion theory; also the point of his forthcoming book on Jere- 
 miah. The latter seems like an epoch-making work. He took 
 the Septuagint of Jeremiah, collated it with the Masordic He- 
 brew text; found enormous discrepancies, and that the Sep- 
 tuagint must have been made from an older and purer text than 
 is the Masordic; and then translated the Septuagint back into 
 
 234 
 

 MOSES COIT TYLER 235 
 
 Hebrew to find what it was. This reconstructed text he printed 
 in a column parallel with the Masordic, and thus shows the 
 discrepancies. 
 
 Leipzig, 3 January. All the morning read on Gellert's Neue 
 Brief e, pp. 16-32 — twice over; the first time, without dictionary, 
 to get the general sense; then more carefully looking out such 
 words as were not familiar. I am charmed by Gellert — his 
 dehcate Attic style, his humor, his sympathy, his loving benevo- 
 lent helpfulness, his beautiful devoutness. Bought a complete 
 edition of Gellert, 1784, ten volumes, with good paper and type, 
 steel engravings, for fifty pfennig per volume! After that 
 visited Das rote Collegium, where Gellert lived. Saw also the 
 room where the philosophical faculty hold examinations for de- 
 grees; with old portraits on the walls — originals of Luther, 
 Melancthon. 
 
 In London daily news read an editorial article on Charles 
 F. Richardson's second volume of American literature. The 
 article ended with the sentence that as our literature is still 
 so young it would be better for us to add to it than to be writing 
 histories of it. This set me re-thinking on the use to which I 
 ought to put the next few years of my life. Shall I go on with 
 my History of American literature, or write a history of The 
 birth of the revolution, or write a series of historical novels, be- 
 ginning with one in Governor Berkeley's time; and perhaps 
 also take time for more miscellaneous literary work — essays, 
 American ballads, dialogues a la^ Imaginary conversations, and 
 other projects more purely literary. 
 
 Leipzig, g January. All the morning on Gellert. Ran 
 through more of his letters; then began on Volume I, to read 
 his Fabeln. Read about twenty pages and found them very 
 good, each one having a real idea, neatly expressed, with a 
 charming flavor of humor and a dainty poetical touch. 
 
236 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 After dinner read in Hauff's Tales; from half -past three 
 to five walked with Fliigel. He showed me the Napoleon house 
 in Reudnitz. At his own house he also showed me original 
 letters of Washington and the other early Presidents. He told 
 me of the rich Leipzig banker, Frege, who is very devout. Frege 
 has a country house. One day, walking out in the fields, he 
 heard a workman swear. Going up to him and giving him a 
 mark, he said, "Please don't swear any more." The next day 
 on his walk, whenever he passed workmen, they broke out into 
 loud swearing. They also wished to be reformed by the same 
 appeal. 
 
 Leipzig, i6 January. Dense fog; light too dim to use my 
 eyes; and my head somewhat rebellious. So at ten went forth. 
 At eleven heard Springer on Geschichte der altchristlichen Kunst. 
 His famulus brought in and arranged photographs for illustra- 
 tion, and Springer entered from his apparatus room, and sat 
 in his chair, silent for a minute or two, a picturesque old man, 
 white hair, white beard, bright eyes, his face bearing traces 
 of illness; his front teeth partly gone and his articulation de- 
 fective therefrom and his voice rather heavy. At first he spoke 
 with his eyes directed to the ceiling, having a wrapt look; some- 
 times with his eyes closed, as if dreaming aloud; sometimes he 
 looked straight into the eyes of his hearers. His gestures were 
 animated and unconscious; he would leave the platform and 
 show the pictures, walk up and down the space in front; or lean 
 unconsciously against the desk. A real orator by nature, and 
 the most impressive sage I have seen here, next to Luthard. 
 
 At twelve, heard Hasse on Deutsche Colonial-politik. He 
 came in with his hat in hand, and fur-lined overcoat on, and 
 hung both on pegs near the stand. A square, broad-faced Saxon, 
 with blue eyes, blond face, and yellow hair and beard; a head 
 of the Garfield shape; a handsome man; quiet, business-like 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 237 
 
 ways, with a masterful air about him, and with a something in his 
 manner that gave weight to what he said. After the lecture, 
 instead of going at once from the room, he stopped to put on his 
 coat, and his hearers left first. First instance of this I have seen. 
 In evening looked over some histories of German literature, 
 particularly Hettner. 
 
 Leipzig, 21 January. Gellert's Fabeln, 139-162. Also a 
 good many pages in Hauff. Three to four, Gess's lecture. 
 Walked with him for a short time. Later read in Klopstock's 
 Leben and in the evening aloud Longfellow's Nuremberg and the 
 belfry of Brouges. 
 
 Was wakeful last night and as usual at such times, of late, 
 was visited by visions of my historical novel. Persons, traits, 
 incidents, crowded upon me. Till after ten this morning wrote 
 down memories of these visions. Some portions of the plot 
 have been greatly developed and several characters made dis- 
 tinct. 
 
 Leipzig, 22 January. Eleven to twelve, being unfit for work, 
 went forth, heard Arndt on Allegemeine Verfassungsgeschichte 
 des Mittelalters. About twelve hearers. He is a man of about 
 fifty-five, gray- whiskered, with a most genial face and spirit; 
 his voice deep but mellow and flexible. He sits, stands, leans 
 over, moves about, gets tired of any one position, gets up and 
 pulls down his vest, and even adjusts the position of his trousers; 
 and is altogether and very quietly at home. The lecture im- 
 pressed me as scientific a.nd thorough, very soHd, no flourishes. 
 At twelve went to hear the elder Delitsch. A large room, many 
 students. He came in with tottering steps and the movement 
 of old age; wears no glasses; seems to be nearly eighty; his 
 voice too feeble for the room; and in the early part of the lecture 
 his face was turned away from the class, and part of the time he 
 talked to the blackboard. We could hear only a murmur of 
 
238 'MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 indistinguishable sounds. Some of the students were laughing 
 at the absurdity of the performance. He wrote on the black- 
 board names of certain Israelitish kings. Then read slowly the 
 leading propositions of his lecture; but the class often scraped 
 the floor for repetition, which he seldom gave them. The 
 scraping was met by hisses. 
 
 At eight in the evening went to Dr. Delitsch's Anglo-American 
 seminary. About twenty persons were present. He came in 
 like a picturesque old sage and prophet; was reverently assisted 
 in removing his overcoat. At table he read in English a brief 
 thesis about miracles, stopping after every proposition and 
 elaborating it in German. Was rather acute and effective. 
 After he had done, the names of all present were given to him, 
 and he spoke to two or three persons. He tried to talk in Eng- 
 lish. He spoke with much hesitation and his pronunciation was 
 very Teutonic. A Mr. Curtis was introduced to him. The old 
 man brightened up at the name, and thought of his friend 
 Professor Curtis, of Chicago. He wanted to say, "You are 
 one of the sons of Professor Curtis?" but he lapsed into this 
 delightful variation: "Are you one of the parents of Professor 
 Curtis?" 
 
 Afterward walked to Lindeneau, and talked with the miller 
 who occupies the house in which Napoleon rested on his retreat. 
 In evening I read in Carlyle's Life of Schiller. Tame! 
 
 Leipzig, 2Q January. Resumed reading in Gellert's Fabeln, 
 182-208. Again read in Hauff. All the world is agog at the 
 election of Boulanger by the people of Paris. What next? 
 France in the hands of an adventurer. If he takes supreme power, 
 can he hold it without a war with Germany? 
 
 Three to four, Gess's lecture. Six to seven, Seydel lecture. 
 A face like Melancthon, intellectual, dehcate, sensitive, spiritual, 
 affectionate. He takes his chair, pauses a little, reads and 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 239 
 
 improvises in a gentle, clear voice; full of refinement and beauty. 
 Was able to follow him very well. 
 
 Leipzigf J February. Accepted invitation to supper at Pro- 
 fessor Maurenbrecher's house. His wife, a handsome woman 
 of about fifty, black eyes, a face of intelligence and strong char- 
 acter, born and bred in London, though of German parentage; 
 speaks English with a perfect accent. Evidently (as gossip 
 says) the master of the situation, the ruler of her own household, 
 her huge, fat husband included. With so remarkable a memory 
 and so wide a range of knowledge that her husband constantly 
 appeals to her for information as the talk goes on; and she gen- 
 erally produces it. Thus he and I were talking about Ranke, 
 and the question was asked in what month did he die. Across 
 the table to her, who was talking with others: "Mamma, in 
 what month did Ranke die?" (Instantly): "Li 1886 — in 
 May!" So of names, of persons, places, books, etc. She said 
 she was expected to have learned everything and to remem- 
 ber it. 
 
 I told him that in his lectures on Quellenkunde I had been 
 waiting to hear what opinion he had of Kinglake's Crimean war; 
 and that perhaps he had spoken of it sometime when I was absent. 
 He: "No, I have not spoken of it." Then, after a delay, as 
 if waiting for me to speak, he added: "Do you think highly 
 of the book?" I gave him my opinion of it, and his look and 
 words indicated that he had not read it, though he chose not 
 to say so. There was a little apparent finesse in covering up the 
 fact or avoiding the avowal of it. But his bright wife, in the 
 midst of the talk around the table, caught the name Kinglake, 
 instantly gave the title of the book, and added that the Tauch- 
 nitz edition had recently been announced as ready, probably 
 the final volume lately published in England. The Kaiser 
 Wilhelm II, as Prince William, studied at Bonn ten years ago 
 
240 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 and had heard Maurenbrecher's lectures, he said. For two 
 years was very earnest and inquisitive, used to wait near the 
 window or on the the stairway after the lecture to meet Mauren- 
 brecher and to ask him about various points in the lecture; the 
 exact meaning to this, where he could read upon that, etc. He 
 had a mind of his own; formed his own opinions to an unusual 
 degree; and at that time was not a friend or admirer of Bis- 
 marck's; was still under his mother's influence. Mauren- 
 brecher said that if he had never done anything else in life, he 
 should always feel some content over the fact that in conversa- 
 tion he had constantly impressed on the Prince the great service 
 and ability of Bismarck, and had perhaps set a-going the in- 
 fluence which had conduced to his present complete intimacy 
 and concord with his great chancellor. He was often with the 
 Prince bei Tisch. 
 
 Maurenbrecher said further: "The Prince may not think great 
 thoughts, but he certainly thinks; every thought of his has to 
 pass through his own mind first. As to character — ah! he is 
 not 'liebenswiirdig ' like the old Kaiser; he can be very hard 
 and harsh and impolite and even savage." Maurenbrecher 
 kindly offered to show me his seminar rooms and agreed to call 
 for me next Tuesday at half-past four. 
 
 They have four sons — the second one only eighteen and 
 weighing two hundred and forty pounds, as his father said, but 
 the son corrected it by saying it was only two hundred and thirty- 
 nine. 
 
 ^A sweet young lady from Diisseldorf , introduced as his niece, 
 was there on a visit to them, with a charming broken English; 
 a noble, sensitive, good face; and eyes full of tenderness, truth, 
 and trustfulness. The only other guest was Dr. William Busch, 
 privat-docent, pet of Maurenbrecher's; with facile and self- 
 confident courtesy, and ample social courage; jovial, ready, 
 affable; never forgetting himself, and a bit of an actor in 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 241 
 
 look, tone, gestures, etc. He escorted me home with great 
 and deferential cordiality — apparently; though I had my 
 doubts. 
 
 We sat at Ahendhrod from about twenty minutes past eight 
 till nearly eleven; great eaters — especially Maurenbrecher and 
 his fat son; no beer; but as Rhinelanders they had wine — 
 white and red. Maurenbrecher grew very jolly. 
 
 Once Maurenbrecher was about to tell me something in German 
 and began by saying: "Herr Professor, will you understand 
 what I am going to say? " 
 
 Of course, the question was worthy of an Irishman. I paused 
 an instant till he should reahze it; and then said, "I hope 
 so." 
 
 Maurenbrecher laughed uproariously, rolled his mountain belly 
 around, and clicked glasses over the speech. 
 
 Speaking of the Austrian Crown Prince Rudolph, just dead 
 by his own hand, I asked Maurenbrecher if the Prince were not 
 rather dissipated. In a low voice and leaning toward me as if 
 in confidence, he repHed, "As dissipated as a human being 
 could be." 
 
 Leipzig, 4 February. Read all the morning in Hauff; finished 
 the sixth volume of Mdrchen, and began to read Lichtenstein. 
 Not in good trim for work. Went to the university library 
 to find some books on American history. Want to look over 
 Berkeley's reign in Virginia. Found few books and no con- 
 veniences. From six to seven, lecture by Maurenbrecher, 
 concerning Bismarck's Briefe; he said that Ranke had in con- 
 versation passed this judgment upon them: "If Bismarck were 
 not the greatest statesman of Germany, he would be its greatest 
 schriftsteller, after Goethe." 
 
 Last Friday evening Maurenbrecher offered to show me his 
 seminar rooms, etc. He chose this afternoon at half-past four 
 
242 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 to meet me here on his way thither and I told him I would await 
 him at the front door. There I waited from twenty minutes 
 past four till five. He did not come, and he sent me no message 
 at his lecture. This sort of thing, I am told, is characteristic 
 of him; he is too facile in making promises and doesn't keep his 
 engagements. His lectures yesterday and to-day on Italian 
 affairs imder Cavour's hand have been very brilliant and im- 
 passioned. 
 
 Leipzig, 8 February. Read Lichtenstein, which proves to be 
 a charming romance. Maurenbrecher came at twenty minutes 
 past six into his lecture room; but, finding that he had not 
 brought his manuscript with him, could not lecture. He dis- 
 missed his audience in a somewhat embarrassed way. I thought 
 he did not avail himself of his opportunity to give a good general 
 talk; but few Germans seem able to meet sudden emergencies. 
 At seven, at Gevandhaus — new oratorio, Constantia. Not 
 a masterpiece. 
 
 Leipzig, 10 February. All the morning wrote letters. Re- 
 ceived one from the Adams Publishing Company, of Springfield, 
 Massachusetts, respecting a republication of my Brawnville 
 papers. 
 
 Leipzig, ig February. Gave two hours to second reading of 
 Lichtenstein, looking out carefully every word concerning which 
 I was uncertain. In the afternoon made farewell calls and took 
 a parting drink of beer with the ever-friendly consul. 
 
 Leipzig, 20 February. At twenty-five minutes past seven 
 left for Weimar and reached it at ten. Rain faUing, soon turned 
 into wet snow; the streets and walks sloppy and dirty. I first 
 walked about the place, through the leading streets, saw the 
 chief buildings, statues, tablets, etc. Then visited the Goethe 
 
 i 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 243 
 
 house — an abode fit for a great poet; was most impressed by 
 his work room and bedroom — their severe simplicity, nohcarpet, 
 only a fragment of one in front of the bed, etc. 
 
 Then took lunch; went to the Schiller house and saw the 
 plain deal bedstead on which he died; then to the Wittheimer 
 Palais — deeply impressed by the portrait of Schiller and Fred- 
 erick the Great; then to the statue of Herder and the house in 
 which he lived and died. It was now a quarter past three and 
 dark; the chief houses closed; my feet were wet; and I hurried 
 to catch the swift train for Leipzig, where I arrived at six. Was 
 deeply charmed with Weimar. Should love to stay there a 
 whole summer and read in the poets who lived there. 
 
 Munchen, 15 March. Went to Neue and Alte Pinakothek, 
 which are wonderful collections of old masters, but especially of 
 Rubens, Rembrandt, and Van Dyke. Galleries cold. 
 
 Walked to cemetery — a dismal effort at landscape and 
 architectural beauty; monuments high, thick, and unlovely. 
 Looked into the rooms where the dead must lie exposed for two 
 or three days — each corpse in contact with an electrified wire 
 by which a bell rings in case of resuscitation. 
 
 At eight we went for Abendbrod to Englisches cafe and 
 had our first taste of Salvator Bier — sickish stuff — too sweet. 
 
 Milnchefif 20 March. Read about fifty pages in Freytag. 
 Delightful for its humor and its clear dramatic gleams of human 
 nature. Visited the studio of the famous Defregger. His 
 studio, a separate house in his grounds — very ample and com- 
 modious and gave me heartache for my lost study. 
 
 From four to seven walked to the Zacherlische Brauerei, 
 and saw an immense crowd of people — men, women, and chil- 
 dren — drinking immense quantities of Salvator Bier, a spectacle 
 of sheer barbarous enjoyment — immitigated swilHng; unre- 
 lieved by a touch of delicacy, or art. 
 
244 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Munchen, 28 March. Read nearly one hundred pages in 
 Soil und Haben. It is full of power; its humor is delicious, its 
 touches of human nature and character neat and vivid; some 
 passages of high poetic and philosophic beauty. Weather 
 very Miinchenish. 
 
 The morning paper gives news of the death of John Bright. 
 Letter from Houghton concerning publication of a new edition 
 of Brawnville papers. 
 
 Freiburg, 28 April. Went early to the cathedral. Densely 
 crowded with men, women, and children; multitudes standing. 
 The scene most impressive. 
 
 Between nine and ten called on Von Hoist, who lives in a 
 stately house and is a man of very high consideration here. He 
 received me very cordially. His wife was to have a surgical 
 operation to-day, and I spent only half an hour with him. At 
 about half-past eleven took the train for Strassburg. Here 
 I am at Hotel Pfeiffer. After dinner and rest walked to the 
 cathedral. Was greatly awed by its interior. Heard a good 
 sermon delivered before a woman's Verein for benevolent work, 
 and was almost the only man in a great throng of women. 
 
 Then went to the new palace of the German Kaiser and 
 finally to the university, which is the most sumptuous university 
 edifice I have seen in Germany. Came back and lingered near 
 the cathedral till nearly dark. 
 
 Heidelberg, i May. At a quarter of nine left Stuttgart and 
 reached here at about fifteen minutes past twelve. 
 
 Looked in at the university just in time to hear the first 
 lecture of Kuno Fisher on the History of Greek philosophy. 
 The room was half full; he was much applauded as he came in 
 and went out; his elocution suggested that he had memorized 
 his lecture — which was perfect in arrangement and diction 
 and most fluently spoken. To my great surprise I was able 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 245 
 
 to follow him. I could see that he had influenced Schurman's 
 method as a lecturer, while also the latter has points of difference 
 in manner — preserves his own originality, and reveals a himibler, 
 gentler, and nobler spirit. 
 
 Heidelberg, g May. In the afternoon read much of G. P. R. 
 James's novel Heidelberg, which quite held me, perhaps more 
 on account of the local interest. Am now quite ready to move 
 on down the Rhine. I long for London and to get to work in 
 the British Museum. 
 
 London, 21 May, 27 Woburn Place, Russell Square. We 
 are to have a whole floor, three rooms, with attendance, gas, 
 and cooking, for thirty shillings a week. After dinner I rode 
 to Trafalgar Square, then walked through the dear old Strand 
 to Chancery Lane and home. Good, good! 
 
 London, 24 May. With and my girls went on top 
 
 of 'bus to London bridge; then by boat to Cadogan Pier, Chel- 
 sea; saw the houses of Carlyle and George EKot; and came 
 back the same way. Sent word of our arrival to McCarthy, 
 Harold Frederic, etc. In evening heard Spurgeon at Exeter 
 Hall — a great speech by a great orator. When he arose, the 
 audience waved handkerchiefs and hats, and cheered for several 
 minutes. He began humbly, referring to his fatigue and illness, 
 and feared he could not meet their wishes; and then at once 
 began to talk directly to the young men — first to those who 
 were not Christians and then to those who were. It was coura- 
 geous, practical, pungent, occasionally humorous, but deeply 
 impressive and stirring. He referred to the tendencies of the 
 age; said people told him he should keep abreast of them, but 
 his idea of it was this: There were the tendencies of the age 
 coming down pell mell against them, and all bad; and he was for 
 standing up and breasting them. This was thrilling and aroused 
 
246 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 great feeling. He was very eloquent when he appealed to the 
 young men to keep themselves pure and imspotted. After his 
 speech the audience arose and shouted as he hobbled from the 
 stage, and people gathered about his carriage in the street and 
 he shook hands with all in reach. 
 
 London, 25 May. After nine went to University College and 
 got prospectus; then to National Gallery and spent an hour 
 and a half; then sat awhile on the steps looking at the vast 
 crowds in Trafalgar Square, and then walked home through 
 Regent and Oxford streets. At half-past two went to British 
 Museimi and was told that "once a reader always a reader"; 
 was recognized by one of the old attendants at the door, and 
 made a start for reading. 
 
 London, 26 May. At eleven. Foundlings Hospital chapel. 
 Sermon by the rector, Dr. Momerie — a witty, not very reverent, 
 but pungent and courageous attack on the doctrine of the physical 
 resurrection. 
 
 London, 27 May. At half-past five called on Harold Frederic. 
 Saw his wife, and then later he came in; my first sight of him. 
 About thirty-three; perhaps five feet ten, big bellied, stout, 
 with a strong, healthy look, and the dress and manners of a 
 London artist or joumaHst. Talks easily and well; a well- 
 poised, confident bearing, slightly recalling some of the ways 
 of Theodore Tilton. Seems quite settled into London life; his 
 wife thinks she can never bear anything else. 
 
 At eight, by appointment, to the National Liberal club — 
 a superb, great affair; then looked in at the Salisbury club, 
 and later, at a club in Covent Garden — the latter the 
 transformation of a historical place. Home at midnight. 
 
 London, 2g May. At half-past two at London Library in St. 
 James's Square. Annual meeting. Mr. Gladstone presided 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 247 
 
 and made a brief, quiet address. He has aged much since I last 
 saw him; has ahnost no hair on the side and back of head. 
 To bed at nine — not exactly London bedtime. 
 
 London, May 30. Worked at British Museum until half-past 
 eleven; then at Harold Frederic's. Looked at manuscript 
 of a new novel he is writing. With him for lunch to the Savage 
 club, where we ate and drank with Moffat and Forman, and 
 David Christie Murray, the latter a novehst and good talker. 
 
 In afternoon went to Mile End Road and saw the People's 
 Palace — the reaUzed dream of the novelist Walter Besant. 
 Received notice of election as honorary member of National 
 Liberal club and of the Century club. 
 
 London, 4 June. Nine to one, British Musexmi. Am getting 
 deeply interested in Sir William Berkeley, and can see materials 
 for a fine book on his life and times. Much new materials are 
 available, and many errors might be corrected. Am tempted 
 to do it, instead of the novel. But, succeeded in discover- 
 ing the date and place of Sir WiUiam Berkeley's birth. At 
 seven, Savage club dinner (at the Criterion) to David Chris- 
 tie Murray. I was the guest of Harold Frederic. Came away 
 at eleven in the evening. Edmimd Yates presided; a rather 
 second-rate and very bohemian affair. 
 
 London, 28 June. In evening at annual meeting of the English 
 Goethe Society. An exquisite address by Edward Dowden on 
 Goethe and the French revolution. Dowden himself a refined, 
 strong man of perhaps forty-five — gentle, pleasing, firm, 
 simple. 
 
 London, 14 July. At seven, Westminster Abbey — service 
 marred by the incivihty of a disagreeable usher. The discourse 
 was by Professor Jowett, and was in memory of Dean Stanley; 
 a fine essay, but unsuitable for such an assemblage, and tamely 
 read. 
 
248 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 London^ i6 July. At just ten minutes before one, at British 
 Museum, finished my last piece of work — serious work — on 
 this side of the Atlantic. For the rest of the time before August 
 24 I shall play. That does not exclude my writing a bit 
 mornings. My work in London has been an attempt to under- 
 stand Sir William Berkeley and his administration, particularly 
 the closing portion of it, including Bacon's rebellion. There is 
 work here for a strong, good historical biography, but probably 
 I shall never undertake it. I have now put myself in pretty 
 good condition to work out the plot of my novel — covering 
 the years 1675, 6, and 7. I feel some anxious curiosity to find 
 out whether I have it in me to do good work in that field and if 
 so I shall follow it up — I mean the field of fiction — particularly, 
 at first, the historical romance. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS MOTHER 
 
 Chester, England, 2 August, i88g 
 My dear Mother: 
 
 Since it is my birthday, I think I will write you a short letter 
 which I hope may reach you on your birthday; although I 
 know that the congratulations which will greet you on attaining 
 the honor of being eighty-two years old will be tempered with 
 sadness by the thought of the great sorrow we all feel over the 
 dreadful affiction which has befallen poor John. [He died the 
 day after these words were written.] 
 
 Indeed, this last year has brought to me many griefs through 
 death, sickness, and other misfortunes, and has given to all life 
 a more sombre hue than it has ever before worn for me. 
 
 I hope these few lines will find you in serene spirits and bearing 
 cheerfully the weight of all the years which rest upon you, and 
 that the Light which is brighter than that of the sun may ever 
 stream around your footsteps. 
 
 We have just passed a very restful month in Stratford-on- 
 Avon; and are now greatly enjoying our stay in this city, which 
 is one of the most ancient and picturesque towns in England — 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 249 
 
 dating back to the time of Julius Caesar. We are going this 
 afternoon to see the ruins of a Roman bath which has lately 
 been exhumed and which is perhaps two thousand years old. 
 In just three weeks from to-day we expect to sail for home — 
 a prospect to which we look forward with great eagerness. 
 
 Your affectionate son, Moses. 
 
 Ithaca^ ig November. We landed in New York on Sunday, 
 September i, and came here on the third of September. For 
 about two weeks I was busy with repairs and changes in the 
 house. Then settled down to writing lectures on Constitutional 
 history of the colonies. Have written and delivered fifteen. 
 During the past week have resumed work on the History of 
 American literature from 1765 to 1815. Just now on Joel 
 Barlow. Can give only an hour or two a day at present. But 
 it is a joy to have got started at it once more. 
 
 Ithaca, 20 November. Last night I turned a man named Eaton 
 out of my senior-graduate seminary on account of incivility 
 and incompetence. Two more will have to go for the latter 
 reason; and two more ought to. Never have I felt so strong 
 a grip on my work since I came here. The great incident of 
 my life, since my return home, is my break with President 
 C. K. Adams. We are no longer friends — acquaintances merely. 
 Perhaps I shall jot down some day the facts which have dissolved 
 a very intimate relation, lasting nearly twenty years. 
 
 Ithaca, 21 November. From eight to eleven forty-five, at 
 home study, on Joel Barlow. Read for second time three books 
 of The columbiad and made notes on some of his small poems. 
 
 Ithaca, November 22. I am very happy to be in my private 
 study and to be at my history once more. Am reading Book 
 VIII of The columbiad and am greatly stirred by the tremendous 
 passage against African slavery in America. The political, 
 
250 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 ethical, and patriotic thought is noble. His biographer, Todd, 
 has done his work inadequately. There were materials for a 
 great biography. 
 
 This leads me to think of my old plan of writing a series of 
 condensed American biographies as my next work after finishing 
 the History of American literature. I must have one on Bar- 
 low. Worked till nearly twelve on him for the History; and 
 began to write a first draft. Lecture 3:30 to 4:30. From 
 half-past four to a quarter past six, faculty meeting. Another 
 of those painful scenes which have become so frequent under 
 C. K. Adams's tactless rule. I felt real pity for this poor old 
 pachyderm of a president, persistently reiterating the same old 
 blunders and plunging forever into the quagmire deeper and 
 deeper. 
 
 Ithaca, 25 November. Till twelve on Barlow. Trying to 
 get into the swing of real literary work. Hard after so long 
 disuse. To write artistically is tenfold more exhausting than 
 any other kind of work I ever tried, except night oratory. This 
 morning worked slowly and delicately over the first three or 
 four pages of my manuscript on Joel Barlow; and it told more 
 on my nervous life than any amount of the rough work of making 
 lectures on American constitutional history and law. 
 
 Ithaca, 7 December. For several days have been somewhat 
 dejected by the mediocrity of my materials for American liter- 
 ary history between 1765 and 1815; but a reading of several 
 chapters written some years ago restores to me somewhat my 
 courage and gives me hope that a true, honest, scientific, and 
 yet attractive piece of work can be built on that territory. 
 
 Read a bit in Swinburne's new book — A study of Ben Jonson. 
 What a debased style is that of Swinburne. 
 
 Ithaca, 12 December. At half-past three gave my last lecture 
 this term, ending the work as well as I had ever hoped to do it. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 251 
 
 Upon the whole, this term has been for me the best one I have 
 ever had since I began this career of professor — the most 
 concentrated, effective, and fruitful. 
 
 Ithaca, 15 December. A call in the parlor this evening from 
 C. K. Adams. He was not at all at his ease; and gasped and 
 floundered more than usual. I manifested no cordiahty, but 
 treated him with cool civility, and the conversation went on 
 for an hour. 
 
 I accompanied him to the door, and as he walked away he 
 turned half around in an awkward sort of way as if expecting 
 me to say some relenting word. Poor old pachyderm — be- 
 fooling himself with the dream of being a Bismarck. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 1890 
 
 Ithaca, 16 January. Have been reading considerable German 
 — Hauff 's Novellen, Freytag's Verlorene Handschrift, Die Heilige 
 Schrift, u. s. w. 
 
 I am stuck in the mud of Joel Barlow, and cannot pull myself 
 out; neither can I do anything else till I have got out. So, 
 with rather invahd strength, I began to tug away this morning 
 and tired myself out in two hours. 
 
 Ithaca, 17 January. Till after twelve toiling on this vexa- 
 tious task of finishing up my chapter on Joel Barlow. Shall 
 have to give it several mornings more, I fear. 
 
 Ithaca, 18 January. Physically and mentally depressed, per- 
 haps the effect of my recent illness. To be done with Joel Barlow 
 being my present necessity, I pounded away on him all the morn- 
 ing and perhaps have got to the end of my treatment of The 
 columbiad. If so, it will be easier to deal with his minor writings. 
 
 Ithaca, 20 January. Though lacking strength, toiled away 
 at Joel — revising what I wrote Saturday, and beginning an 
 account of his minor writings. Progress is visible, and I hope 
 the end is not far off. Anxious to get on to the next topic. 
 
 Ithaca, 21 January. With better vigor returned to the siege 
 of Joel Barlow. Dealt with his Conspiracy of kings and Hasty 
 pudding. Lecture at half-past three. Seminary at seven. 
 
 Ithaca, 22 January. Cold weather. Good! All the 
 morning on Joel Barlow. Have finished his political writings, 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 253 
 
 and am now studying his prose. The evangelist Moody held 
 a meeting at Barnes Hall at five. Great crowd. Was most pain- 
 fully impressed by the jocular, vulgarizing, crude tone of the man. 
 
 Ithacay 26 January. Slept but little last night. Unfit for 
 controversy and business; and a personal war, like this, is at 
 war with my nature. [This has reference to relations with C. 
 K. Adams.] Regrets and sad memories poured through my 
 mind all night. But I am in the path of duty and must not 
 flinch. I never was in a fight before; and I am not going out 
 of this fight behind. 
 
 Ithaca^ 27 January. With a tired brain worked for two hours 
 on the prose of Joel Barlow, and then went to the library to try 
 to settle some bibliographical questions about him. Afterward 
 
 looked over class papers at office. At dinner Mr. 
 
 called and stated that the president could not attend the meeting 
 of Senate committee on Tuesday evening. On my way to 
 lecture I called on President Adams and arranged for Thursday 
 evening. Our interview was formal, cold, and, on his part, 
 almost harsh. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 January. Not up to the mark for good brain work. 
 Pottered awhile on Barlow's prose, and then prepared lecture 
 on The first colonial patent of James I. Seven to half-past eight, 
 seminary. Later, read a bit of P. Bajoie's Life of Luther, a 
 flashy, trashy sort of an attempt at popularizing history. 
 
 Ithaca, 2 February. Read to-day in Charles Beard's Martin 
 Luther — a masterpiece of historical scholarship and of English 
 style. My Sunday reading now is to be on Luther and the Refor- 
 mation. I am glad to be able to study more closely that won- 
 drous man. The strain of work this past week, especially con- 
 nected with our committee and Senate meetings, leaves me 
 
354 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 very tired to-day. Am much impressed by the possibility of 
 spiritual and mental discipline to be got from practice in the 
 business of faculty discussions — a thing calling, in high degree, 
 for self-control and mental resource. 
 
 Ithaca, 3 February. Nearly all the morning looking over 
 John Trumbull things. Ah, yes; the last two hours, preparing 
 lecture on Early colonial patents. Came a sweet, old-fashioned 
 letter from Andrew D. White, suggesting that I should write 
 an American Plutarch — really an old idea of my own. This 
 letter will strengthen my inclination thereto. When my Ameri- 
 can literature is done — if there is anything left of me — perhaps 
 I'll give it to this. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 February. Again all morning on colonies; and the 
 new lecture thus written went off well in the afternoon; especial 
 uproar of fun over the ludicrously unintelligible boundaries 
 of Rhode Island. 
 
 Ithaca, ig February. Ash Wednesday. Had a bad night. 
 Unable to do real work to-day. Head very tired. After prepar- 
 ing for my class, wandered off in the fresh air and visited a 
 peaceful and inviting spot — the East Lawn cemetery — looking 
 about for a good, comfortable place in which this poor body may 
 be laid to rest. Could not go to church. Felt discouraged 
 about writing. 
 
 Ithaca, 20 February. Not in good condition yet. Pottered 
 over Trumbull, and then gave up in despair. Gave the rest 
 of the morning to arranging books and papers in my study. 
 
 Ithaca, 21 February. Got a slight start in writing on John 
 TnunbuU — just a gleam of intellectual light; giving me a 
 revival of hope that I can still do something. Had to spend 
 most of the morning on class work. Half-past three, recitation 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 255 
 
 in American constitutional law. At half-past eight, to see 
 Professor Palmer, of Harvard, and his wife — my old pupil, 
 Alice Freeman. A pleasant hour. A bit of good talk with 
 Palmer. He read a charming passage from his translation of 
 the Odyssey. 
 
 Ithaca, 22 February. Had some good hours for writing. It 
 cheers, but does not inebriate. From half-past three to five 
 walked with Professor Palmer, who greatly attracts me. He 
 told me much of interest about Harvard, EHot, etc. 
 
 Ithaca, 27 February. Got about four hours for work on John 
 Trumbull. Am studjdng his earhest prose essays, about 1768, 
 The correspondent. Slow, but real work. 
 
 Ithaca, s March. From half-past eight to half-past twelve, 
 a good piece of work on Trumbull's first essays — The corre- 
 spondent. After lecture at half-past four walked in the crisp 
 air, over the frozen groimd, out to the Pleasant Grove cemetery, 
 which I rather prefer to the East Lawn. Must ask about 
 it. In evening, seminar; then half an hour's walk. 
 
 Ithaca, g March. Head and body too tured to go down to 
 St. John's. Walked out for a pair of hours into the country. 
 At three at chapel; heard Dr. Chamberlain; it was an over- 
 ornamented effort at preaching the joy of righteousness. He 
 falls quite below my expectation. 
 
 Ithaca, 10 March. Spent the morning in going over some 
 thirty pages of type-written copy on Trumbull, verifying, 
 correcting, putting in notes, etc. 
 
 Ithaca, II March. Finished revision of my chapter on Tnun- 
 bull, which at present is carried only down to 1760. Shall 
 hope to finish it after my return from New Haven. Half-past 
 
256 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 three, lecture. Gave a blessing to young T for his flimsy 
 
 thesis — the young wind-bag son. 
 
 New Yorkj i8 March. At New York Historical Society 
 library, looked over files of Boston chronicle for 1769-70, and 
 found the ninth number of The meddler. In evening went to 
 Metropolitan opera house to grand spread of the Nineteenth 
 Century club; heard lecture by Miss AmeHa B. Edwards 
 on Egyptian fiction. Miss Edwards looks to be about sixty; 
 her left arm, recently broken, was hung in a sling; her features 
 delicate, fine, sensitive; and a voice of rare melody, most effec- 
 tively used by her. The lecture was a masterpiece of feHcitous 
 literary statement. The great news reaches us of Bismarck's 
 retirement — a notable event for the whole world, and the end 
 of a great epoch. 
 
 New Haven, ig March. Left New York at nine and reached 
 New Haven at twelve. 
 
 I write in old Grove Hall, looking out down Church street, 
 and seeing President Woolsey's old house, at which I used to 
 gaze with awe as upon an imperial palace. 
 
 New Haven, 20 March. Went to library and to work on 
 such things as they have on Trumbull and Barlow. Found The 
 meddler essays in Boston chronicle. At five, heard lecture 
 by Professor George Adams on the Missouri compromise and 
 the Monroe doctrine; good, clear, business-like talks; judicial; 
 just a trifle lacking in Hfe and spirit. Stopped and spoke with 
 him. 
 
 New Haven, 21 March. At half-past eight lecture by Profess- 
 or W. G. Sumner — or, rather, a class exercise. Subject: 
 The American iron market in relation to the tarijff; first 
 fifteen minutes class wrote in silence; papers were taken up, 
 then questions fired upon him by the class. His way of dealing 
 
f 
 
 MOSES COIT TYLER 257 
 
 with them was masterly. I never witnessed more admirable 
 teaching. All tell me that he wields an'imrivalled influence over 
 the students. Can well believe it. I waited to speak with him. 
 His manner to me was formal, cold. At a quarter of ten went 
 to the library and renewed work. All the morning on the 
 Stiles manuscripts, which profoundly interested me. I wish 
 they were printed; a mass of eighteenth-century science and 
 opinion and social customs. While working was visited by 
 Lounsbury, A. M. Wheeler, and President D wight. The latter 
 was facetious and informal and very pleasant, but knew nothing 
 of any early unprinted writings of his grandfather. At three 
 in the afternoon Lounsbury called by appointment for a walk. 
 He showed me the courts of the lawn tennis club, with one 
 of wood for winter use. He told me of his great work on Chau- 
 cer, which he hopes to pubKsh this year, in two volumes, by the 
 Harpers; an exhaustive piece of work; his magnum opus and 
 his monument. He has given prodigious work to it the last 
 ten years; has gathered together a great collection of books 
 on the subject; hopes to deal completely with every important 
 topic relating to Chaucer, and to make a book which every 
 student of Chaucer hereafter will need to have. We gossiped 
 about Yale faculty matters. There is a chronic unpleasantness 
 established between Timothy Dwight and the faculty. Tim 
 is on the whole a disappointment. The great need of the coUege 
 is money — unrestrained in its use for general purposes, especially 
 for increasing the force of teachers. Sumner hates Dwight, just 
 as he did Porter. Just before five we arrived at the library, where 
 I met Professor George Adams, with whom I walked till six. 
 He speaks very modestly of his attainments, especially in Amer- 
 ican history, on which he has now to "cram" for his lectures. 
 
 New Haven, 22 March. From ten to one at the Yale library. 
 Finished my inspection of the Stiles manuscripts, which have a 
 
258 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 biographical and historical value greater than I expected. At 
 6 :oo P. M. at dinner at Professor Lounsbury's. We had a merry 
 evening. Lounsbury's talk is full of life and seasoned with 
 humor. 
 
 In afternoon long call from Professor A. M. Wheeler; and 
 then called on Professor Fisher and President Porter. The 
 latter is physically broken and infirm — a mere wreck; but 
 still teaches philosophy. His instruction is a mere farce, and 
 greatly deranges the department, but the poor old man — 
 partly from pride and partly from the need of his salary — 
 clings to his professorship, the duties of which he tries to dis- 
 charge. Sad that we have not a proper system for the retire- 
 ment of aged, professors after a life of faithful service. 
 
 Stratford, Ct., 24 March. Left New Haven at half-past eight. 
 Reached here at about nine, and after considerable inquiry found 
 the house of Miss Linslie — a large, stately old mansion standing 
 in the midst of perhaps ten acres of ground. She received me 
 at the door, called me by name, and ushered me into a large 
 parlor, in which a wood fire was making things cheerful. After 
 some preliminary talk I proceeded to work with her assistance, 
 and went through the last volume of the Connecticut gazette, 
 but found no Correspondent; then began to search the Journal 
 and Post boy through 1 768-1 769. Finally in 1770 found 
 the first nine numbers of The correspondent and in 1773 found 
 the remainder. Noted exact dates. Miss Linslie kindly helped 
 me in copying and was in all ways agreeable and kind. Took 
 dinner with her, after which she showed me the old homes of 
 the place. Was most interested in looking at the site of Samuel 
 Johnson's house. 
 
 Ithaca, 8 April. Finished lecture on Historical precedents 
 for a bill of rights. The world is watching anxiously the young 
 German Kaiser, who is now ruling without Bismarck. Many 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 259 
 
 voices cry out — audacious, eccentric, foolish, and predict dis- 
 aster. Somehow, I believe in him. Perhaps he is a genius; 
 another Frederick the Great. All the evening looking over my 
 old book, The Brawnville papers, for which there seems to be 
 some demand, and I may revise and repubhsh. 
 
 Ithaca, 24 April. My habit now is to spend the first half 
 hour in my study alone every morning in reUgious devotion, 
 reading Die deutsche Bibel von Luther, iibergesetzt; Thomas 
 d Kempis und Pusey^s Prayers. 
 
 Bishop Doane preached morning and evening at St. John's. 
 He told me that Lidden will not publish the Life of Pusey till 
 after Manning and Newman have left this world. Doane's 
 episcopal regaha, with his Oxford hood blazing on his back, 
 made a great sensation, and were far more brilliant than his 
 discourses. 
 
 Ithaca, 8 May. Beginning to weary of lecture-making, as I 
 usually do after I have written a dozen or more in quick suc- 
 cession. Long to be at my chapter for American literature 
 once more. At half-past eight went to reception given to 
 Goldwin Smith. He was very cordial, said he had just been in 
 Washington, where he liked to go, especially to see "old Ban- 
 croft," as he calls him. The latter was in bed; remembers 
 clearly the events and persons of his early and middle life; his 
 talk was full of interest and charm. He was confused only as 
 to where he was; seemed to be uncertain whether he was in 
 Washington or Newport. Goldwin Smith thinks it doubtful 
 whether Bancroft has kept records of his vast personal acquaint- 
 ance with eminent men in Europe and America for the past 
 seventy years. One other remark of Goldwin Smith's: Hag- 
 gard's stories indicate the last attempts of fiction to keep itself 
 alive before it expires. The end of novel-writing has been 
 reached. In fact, there will be no more literature. All now is 
 
26o MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 to be science. We used to tell Matthew Arnold at Oxford that 
 he was the last, though not the least, of English poets. 
 
 Ithaca, II May. At chapel, Dr. Hoge, of Richmond, gave 
 a wonderful sermon on Our Lord's person and authority, the 
 very Gospel. I was spellbound. After sermon, Dr. Hoge 
 spent an hour with us. He is an apostle indeed. My heart 
 goes out to him. 
 
 Ithaca, 13 May. Worked rather wearily on the records for 
 the twelfth amendment lecture. Shall write no more lectures 
 after this topic is treated until next fall. Long to resume work 
 on my book. That would refresh me. Very tired. Paced 
 the veranda all the evening, chewing the cud of quietness and 
 content. 
 
 Ithaca, 24 May. With unspeakable pleasure resumed work 
 on my History of American literature, which I have been forced 
 to neglect since about this time in March, when I stopped in 
 the midst of my unfinished chapter on John Trumbull. After 
 so long a pause it is hard to restore the mental connection. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 May. After a night of ill sleep, a morning of ill 
 work. Pottered and muddled over Trumbull. Instead of the 
 freshness and glow of creative vigor, have I spent the last two 
 months on lecture drudgery; and now, when I can get some 
 mornings for literary work, the power is gone. Still I must 
 press forward; perhaps it will come back. At any rate, I need 
 refreshment and recuperation. 
 
 Ithaca, 3 June. Began to write on Trumbull as a satirist. 
 Progress of dullness, a progress which my own work on the subject 
 illustrated, I fear. Am in danger of writing a book about Trum- 
 bull. The day was without bracing air, and I plodded in a grim 
 sort of way. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 261 
 
 Ithaca, 23 June. Vacation really begins to-day, and for 
 the next three months I can lead the life ideal — the life I would 
 lead if I were in independent circumstances. 
 
 After morning devotions, from nine to one wrote and studied 
 for my History. My mind was fresh and alert; and I wrote 
 joyously. Made some headway. These things I cannot com- 
 mand, but I hope to finish Trumbull by the last day of this 
 month. It has dragged so long. This is an ideal day — indus- 
 trious, earnest, composed, independent, helpful, quiet, cheerful, 
 in the fear and love of God and in love of all men. 
 
 Ithaca, 15 July. Heavy with moisture, hot, dead — the air 
 to-day has lain as a burden upon us — not as an inspiration. 
 I have struggled against it in vain this morning; tried to make a 
 beginning of my small chapter on Humphreys. I forced two 
 or three sentences upon the paper, and felt that they were lead, 
 that I was impotent and stupid. Then, at about eleven, es- 
 caped into a book, and read till lunch with much delight in 
 H. C. Lodge's new book on Washington. I have been forth- 
 putting now for so many weeks that I seem to be hungry for 
 reading. 
 
 Ithaca, 23 July. Plodded along with David Humphreys, 
 and made very, very slow work. Art is very long. Evening — 
 delightful rest and meditation, wandering among the trees on 
 the lawn, and sitting on the veranda. This is almost an ideal 
 life, one of the most rationally happy summers I ever had — 
 recalling somewhat that of 1869 — in the dear little cottage, 
 aetate 34. 
 
 Ithaca, 24 July. Another morning of almost imperceptible 
 progress on David. Afternoon — nap as usual; an hour in 
 the library, during which I came upon some new material con- 
 cerning David Humphreys and his literary crowd, Trumbull, 
 
262 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 D wight, and Barlow, and decided to be content and go slow, 
 and to let my treatment of David Humphreys take its own 
 development, and become larger than I had intended. Shall 
 drop him for a few days now, and prepare my article on The 
 American epic of Columbus, an adaptation from my Barlow 
 chapter. A letter to-day from H. E. Scudder, of the Atlantic. 
 Shall send the article to him. 
 
 I finished this week the reading of Luther's Uebersetzung des 
 Neuen Testaments, and began to read it again, simultaneously 
 with the Old Testament. I am profoundly fascinated by this 
 Hebrew literature in Luther's German — its spirituality, ethical 
 grandeur, and purity; its benign strength for body, soul, and 
 spirit. I am so eager to be reading it that I hurry from breakfast 
 in order to begin. 
 
 Ithaca, 2y July. Read in the June Forum Lecky's paper on 
 Formative influences, and felt deeply depressed from considering 
 the disadvantages of my own life, poverty, burdens, inability 
 to travel and buy books, and, worse than all, my physical 
 weakness in work, and my infirmity of purpose resulting in much 
 shifting of direction and consequent superficiality and fruitless- 
 ness. My only consolation was in the hope that all my failures 
 in intellectual achievement before the world might prove a 
 moral and spiritual discipHne to me — I do believe in the Eternal, 
 the True, the Righteous — and I think I am not a humbug, 
 anyhow. 
 
 Ithaca, 2 August. This day I become fifty-five years old. 
 I celebrated it by doing the work that lay before me, in spite 
 of the hot weather. Am enlarging my canvass for the sketch 
 of handsome, big David Humphreys. 
 
 Ithaca, 7 August. A note from Horace E. Scudder sending 
 back my paper on TheColumbiad. He does not like the subject. 
 Have been deeply depressed all the day and all the evening. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 263 
 
 Ithaca^ 8 August. Am under great depression still as to my 
 literary work, my fitness for any sort of intellectual service in 
 the world. Am dreadfully conscious of the great mistakes of 
 my life. Felt the lack of balance in my judgment, my liability 
 to self-delusion through the colored Hght in which I often view 
 things. An elderly man, with the cool, mournful sob of autumn 
 sounding about him. 
 
 Yet I tugged on again through most of the forenoon. 
 
 Ithaca, 16 August. This week I have heard of three memora- 
 ble deaths — John Boyle O'Reilly, Charles L. Bruce, and Cardi- 
 nal Newman. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 September. With great reluctance this morning 
 gave my sermon Almost persuaded. I felt a lack of spiritual 
 preparation to deliver such a message, and was in great anguish. 
 But I was strengthened to utter it, and there was every sign of 
 solemn attention in the congregation. Once more rolls upon 
 me the longing to be a preacher. What human employment 
 compares with it! Oh, that I had persisted in it even unto 
 death! 
 
 Ithaca, September 2g. My spirit is deeply moved by the ex- 
 perience of yesterday in preaching; and I brood over the possi- 
 ble duty and blessedness of letting my life — what remains — 
 move more completely into the religious work that I might do, 
 even while I still hold this chair. Suppose I finish the History, 
 
 and then Ah, what could be so great a means of peace to 
 
 my spirit! God's will be done! I am His — I am ready to do 
 whatever He wills to do with me and through me. Let Him 
 direct. I will not hold back. 
 
 Ithaca, 3 October. George Bancroft's ninetieth birthday. I 
 spoke to my students about it, having sent to him a telegram 
 in their name as well as mine. 
 
264 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, 20 October. On lecture on the Defeated party , etc. 
 Three to half-past four, a class exercise, written and oral. 
 The first of the kind. Good start. Seven to quarter-past 
 eight, junior seminary. Afterward went to druggist for some; 
 liver pills. I need them. Am in the dumps. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 November. Went to New York last Saturday; 
 read a paper at the Historical Society on Tuesday evening, 
 and came home yesterday. I was weary beyond description, 
 and this experience of my frailty of health shatters the last bit 
 of hope I have lately cherished that I might take some duty 
 as a preacher. Alas! I cannot. This weakness seems like death. 
 I must stay at home and do my work here — such as it is — 
 in quietness. 
 
 Ithaca, 24 November. Prepared lecture on the Earliest legis- 
 lation for the public domain. Three to four in the afternoon, 
 gave it. Before I left the room the janitor br®ught me a big 
 letter from C. K. Adams. It expresses every sort of kind feeling 
 for me, and offers to name me for promotion. It contains in- 
 accuracies, but opens the way at least for better working rela- 
 tions between us. What I lack is confidence! But I cannot 
 refuse such a proffer of good will. Seven to half-past eight, semi- 
 nary. Half-past eight to ten, meeting of the full professors at 
 Lincoln hall. Ten to half-past ten, committee meets. What 
 a day's work for an insomnolent invalid like mel 
 
 Ithaca, 26 November. To-day begins a week's rest, which I 
 greatly need. Since term began I have written out in full about 
 fifteen lectures, involving much research and planning, and my 
 brain is very weary of that form of work. I crave literary re- 
 freshment, and an entire change of mental employment. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 November. Began yesterday to read Froude's 
 CcBsar — a book to hold me in chains of delight. Finished it to- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 265 
 
 day. I can feel the sanitary benefit of this literary feast trick- 
 ling through all the cells of my brain. After this literary festival, 
 for a day or two longer, I shall resume work on my History, 
 
 Ithaca, 2Q November. Had a wonderful sleep last night — 
 ten hours. My thoughts running upon Caesar, I read other 
 estimates of him — by Plutarch, De Quincey, and Seeley. 
 
 In evening read Newman's Apologia. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 December. Had a wonderful sleep last night. Broke 
 my record! Ten hours sohd. Feel like a giant. Yet my in- 
 tellectual work has not been gigantic. 
 
 Ithaca, 8 December. Wrote on Timothy Dwight. Very 
 slow. Pottering. All the world watches the row in the Irish 
 party in the English ParHament. Parnell discredited by private 
 baseness, yet clings to the leadership with satanic audacity and 
 power; then follows a disruption under the lead of Healy and 
 McCarthy, but without great ability for leadership. Will it 
 be the time for SaHsbury to dissolve ParHament and have a 
 general election? His opportunity? 
 
 Ithaca, 12 December. Was awake in the night under a sudden 
 vivid impression of a good plan for a tragedy on Bacon, the 
 Virginian — using the materials dramatically instead of in a 
 novel. 
 
 Ithaca, 15 December. A letter from A. C. McClurg & Com- 
 pany, of Chicago, inquiring if I would edit a reprint of Barlow's 
 Columbiad for the Centenary. Replied cautiously; and if 
 they do the right thing, shall consent. Can use my Barlow 
 chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 1891 — 1894 
 
 Ithacay 27 January^ i8gi. Finished my final revision of 
 chapter on President D wight; forty-seven pages typewritten. 
 Intend now to gather up the crumbs; perhaps to do a little read- 
 ing of a more general kind, and then to work further in this Con- 
 necticut crowd of literary feUows — President Stiles, and the 
 small poets. 
 
 Ithaca J 28 January^ i8gi. More odds and ends relating to 
 D wight; and put him in the safe. An hour's work on lecture for 
 afternoon. After four, down town for exercise. In evening 
 tired. Read a little in Schurman's Belief in God; also in the 
 Enghsh version of Kostlin's Luther. To bed early. 
 
 [At this point the diary became silent for the space of a year. 
 Every available moment was spent on the preparation of the 
 two large octavo volumes, The literary history of the American 
 revolution y which made its appearance in the spring of 1897, 
 when a great load became Hfted.] 
 
 Ithaca, September 26, i8g2. I am going to nail myself down 
 now and henceforth work on History of American literature 
 till it is done. Many things have been settled in my mind the 
 last year. Concentrate. Simplify. Persevere. Must get back 
 to the method in the old Hillcroft study. From nine to twelve 
 on Conway's Life of Thomas Paine, revising my chapter on that 
 man. I walked about afterward for fresh air; and at home 
 wrote letters and read in Keats. 
 
 266 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 267 
 
 LETTER FROM GROVER CLEVELAND TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Gray Gables, Buzzards Bay, Mass. 
 4 Aug., i8g2 
 My dear Sir: 
 
 I hope you will forgive the unavoidable delay in acknowledg- 
 ing the receipt of your extremely kind letter of congratulation. 
 As a Democrat I regard as one of the most valuable results of 
 party action the adherents whom we have gained among think- 
 ing and educated men, and I should be much afiiicted if the 
 party, or any of those who represent it, should be unfortunate 
 enough to forfeit the confidence of these supporters. 
 
 These are indeed times which our friend Apgar would have 
 rejoiced to see; and I frequently think of him and of the assistance 
 he would be to us, mourning anew his untimely death. Thank- 
 ing you for your kind expressions toward me personally, I am. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Grover Cleveland. 
 
 Ithaca, 26 October, i8g2. Work began last Thursday. All 
 my classes are large. Met to-day my seminar for first time. 
 From three to twenty minutes of six, classes. Heavy. So 
 tired. To bed very early — my sovereign remedy. 
 
 Ithaca, 26 October, i8g2. Our Wedding Day. Thirty-three 
 years ago! I am still plodding on Thomas Paine amid great 
 interruptions. 
 
 Ithaca, IS November, i8g2. At St. John's. Said morning 
 prayer and assisted in Holy Communion. Am going into the 
 chancel this year less than usual — on account of health. Have 
 overworked. Since last record Cleveland has been elected. 
 
 Have been hard at work on Volume III. Just now on James 
 Otis. 
 
 Ithaca, 14 November, i8g2. Eight to twelve nearly finished 
 notes and verifications for Chapter II on Overture of political 
 
268 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 debate. Thorough work, and of a quality of which I was incapa- 
 ble when I wrote the first two volumes. This may comfort 
 me for the delay. Lectured, rather ill-prepared and preoccupied. 
 
 Ithacdy 17 November J i8g2. All the forenoon on war against 
 chaos among books and papers; an inheritance from years of 
 neglect enforced by too much work. Getting near to order and 
 serenity. Work done by the class to-day was dull, and in places 
 showed signs of shirking. Rather disheartened. Must plan a 
 prompt and vigorous remedy. For Volume III I am at a pause 
 so far as concerns composition. Before I go on with the next 
 chapter, relating to political writings — 17 64- 17 66 — must 
 re-read Tudor's Otis, Wells's Samuel Adams, Rowland's Mason, 
 and Henry's Henry, etc. 
 
 Ithaca, November 28, i8g2. On Friday last went to Easton, 
 Pennsylvania, to lecture for one Lerch, whom I found to be 
 master of a private school. Was his guest. The lecture badly 
 provided for. Small audience. The next morning I ran over 
 the grounds of Lafayette College — a meagre, obsolete little con- 
 cern. Got home at half-past seven Saturday evening. Was 
 paid $50 and expenses and virtually lost two good working days. 
 Not a wise use of life, I think. Yesterday, Sunday, I made my 
 usual monthly journey to Slaterville and held service. Perhaps 
 a waste of energy also. From eight to one, on Wells's Life of 
 Samuel Adams, etc. For some time to come I must be reading 
 on the political and constitutional development of the Revolu- 
 tion with a view to precision in my account of its political liter- 
 ature. Evening, copied my Chautauqua address for publica- 
 tion. 
 
 Ithaca, I December, i8g2. Eight to one. Devotions take till 
 nearly nine. Shall not again mention them; it hath a phari- 
 saic look. Preparing lecture for to-morrow — the first of a series 
 of new lectures on the Failure of the confederation. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 269 
 
 Ithaca, 3 December, i8g2. Had to pitch in hard to get ready 
 my lecture for this afternoon — and, my mind not being at ease 
 on the matter, could not get my nap after dinner. Went into 
 the lecture room with some anxiety, but the lecture turned out 
 to be a fairly good one. 
 
 Ithaca, 6 December, i8g2. Chiefly on lecture for to-morrow 
 on the Failure of the confederation. Walked till six with Pro- 
 fessor B the most chivalrous soul I know on the campus — 
 
 a rare embodiment of intelligence, delicacy, and nobility. 
 
 Ithaca, y December, i8g2. Still's Life of John Dickinson, 
 till eleven — a thoughtful and very suggestive book, not without 
 errors of fact and opinion: impregnated with the traditional 
 Middle-state dislike and envy of New England; after that on my 
 last lecture this term. Laus Deo! Shall have nearly a month 
 now for work on my book. Much of this I shall give to a fresh 
 study of the lives and writings of the men who shaped the po- 
 litical and constitutional policies of the revolutions — as a prep- 
 aration for my chapters on our political literature, state 
 papers, etc. 
 
 Ithaca, 14 December, i8g2. Finished the three volumes of 
 W. W. Henry's Life of Patrick Henry, which I am to criticise in 
 the Yale review. Also began Volume I of Rowland's George 
 Mason, which impressed me as a gushing and sloppy piece of 
 work. 
 
 Ithaca, December 21, i8g2. Not a good working day for me. 
 After making a hard pull on my article about Patrick Henry, 
 adjourned to the fresh air, and walked out to the cemetery on 
 the North road, where I hope to buy a lot soon for my own burial 
 when needed. In afternoon odds and ends. Read in De Quin- 
 cey's Figures of the past — a ]oyivl book. In the world outside, 
 
270 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Blaine lies sick unto death. Great commotion in Paris over the 
 Panama scandals; discredit of the government; fresh plots of a 
 royalist revolution. In Germany uncertainty, discord, threats, 
 prophecies of trouble. Cleveland arranging for his second 
 administration with great authority and self-command. 
 
 Ithaca^ 2j December, i8g2. In my workshop, as usual. Chiefly 
 on my article on W. W. Henry's book. I am quite out of prac- 
 tice in literary composition; and in taking it up once more find 
 myself moving from sentence to sentence very slowly. But 
 speed is nothing; and nothing shall be sacrificed to it. In evening 
 finished volume III of Samuel Adams — a bit of unfinished duty. 
 
 Ithaca, 17 March, i8gj. Since last record have done no stroke of 
 work on the book; but have prepared new lectures for class at 
 the rate of two a week; have written out two platform lectures; 
 have lectured at Dobbs Ferry, Poughkeepsie, and Buffalo; and 
 have kept up my monthly service at Slaterville. My lectures 
 for next term are pretty well provided for; and I begin to-day 
 to work on my book — and hope to keep at it every morning 
 through March, April, May, June, and July — four months and 
 a half. That ought to advance matters. I feared that I could 
 not come back and drop into the old currents of thought without 
 much delay and difl&culty; but I have had a forenoon of animated 
 and fruitful work, beginning just where I left off. Chapter II 
 closes with Otis's pamphlet of 1764, July. Chapter III, which I 
 caU The first clash of American whig and American tory — goes 
 on to give an account of all the Whig writers of that year till 
 it reaches the Halifax Gentleman — the first Tory writer — and 
 the discussion which he stirred up. This morning's work 
 carried me well on into my treatment of Oxenbridge Thacher. 
 Laus Deo! In afternoon wrote letters — a department dread- 
 fully neglected. Then walked an hour, and in evening rested 
 with Sir Walter Scott's Diary. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 271 
 
 LETTER FROM EDMUND C. STEDMAN TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 New York, ig March, i8gj 
 Dear Dr. Tyler: 
 
 I am indebted to you for the pamphlet copy of your review 
 of Mr. Wirt Henry's big hfe of his renowned ancestor. But I 
 had read it already, with unusual care, when it appeared in 
 the Yale review. It was to me a kind of oasis in the economic 
 desert! Yale is better, no doubt, in economics than in literature, 
 but I can survive without Adam Smith or Bagehot. It ap- 
 peared to me that your courteous suggestion of the defects in Mr. 
 Henry's work was very considerate and that your final words of 
 recognition, under all the conditions, were most generous. 
 
 And by the latter adjective I mean that in your case they were 
 most characteristic. You couldn't be otherwise than knightly, 
 my dear Tyler, if you tried and tried. 
 
 Ever sincerely yours, 
 
 Edmund C. Stedman. 
 
 Ithaca, 25 March, i8gj. For the past two days, "being brain 
 weary, have been away from this desk — knocking about in 
 the open air. Before that interval had made good progress in 
 writing. 
 
 Ithaca, 26 March, i8gs. Palm Sunday. Took the service, 
 with sermon, at Slaterville, this morning. But it fatigues me 
 more than I can bear. My days of preaching are nearly over. 
 Shall go to Slaterville but twice more this spring; and shall 
 seldom go into the chancel again. A great sorrow to me. But 
 my bodily strength is not enough for two professions, and my 
 profession in this university is the one to which Providence 
 seems to appoint me. 
 
 Ithaca, 27 March, iSg^. All the morning steadily at work 
 on Chapter XIX. Revising old matter — produced in a different 
 and earHer stage of my acquaintance with the subject, and in 
 a different tone from what I now have. Proves hard — harder 
 
272 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 than to do it all anew. Slow. Almost no positive result of the 
 whole morning's work. Am consciousof very small reserve force; 
 life is tending into old age. It is afternoon. How I envy those 
 to whom the sunset has peacefully come, and justly, for they 
 are nearer the sunrise. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 March, i8pj. Made another fight to get farther 
 along with Chapter XIX and gave it up. The thing is the last 
 to be done in the volume. In the nature of the case I must 
 wait till all details are before me before I can report the results 
 of a survey of them. So I stoop to conquer. After two hours 
 or more of baffled effort I lay aside what I have done on XIX, 
 deliver over to Jeannette XX for copy, and resume work on XXI. 
 
 Ithaca, ji March, i8pj. Good Friday. After private devo- 
 tions for the day, my work was kept up through the forenoon 
 — but with results negative rather than positive. Cleared away 
 difficulties in dealing with latter part of 1764. 
 
 Ithaca, 10 April, i8gj. Last Friday went to Wilkesbarre 
 to lecture on Francis Hopkinson before Daughters of the Revo- 
 lution. Mrs. the boss — and such a boss! A comedy of 
 
 preposterous energy and misdirected enthusiasm. Many pleas- 
 ant people. On Saturday morning a droll time going with the 
 she-boss to the Monument and catching the train at Wyoming. 
 
 Ithaca, 14 April, i8pj. Had a thundering good sleep last 
 night, and in consequence a thundering good morning's work 
 Reached the end of the debate between Otis and Halifax 
 Gentleman in Chapter XXI. 
 
 Ithaca, 25 April, i8g;^. Modifying, verifying. Have just 
 bought for my own joy Birkbeck Hill's Boswell — a book to 
 live with and love the rest of my life. It has much to do with my 
 period of work and my theme — the English side of American 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 273 
 
 revolution. Saw to-day Catalogue of library of the late George 
 H. Moore, LL.D. — the first information I have received of the 
 a man with whom I have had much to do. 
 
 Ithaca, 4 May, iSgj. I like Sir Walter Scott's phrase for this 
 desk work — "I wrought." So, to-day, I wrought on Daniel 
 Dulany's great pamphlet — tr5dng to lay out its line of argu- 
 ment clearly. 
 
 Ithaca, 31 May, iSgj. Last Sunday I preached at Slaterville 
 for the last time this season, and perhaps for the last time in my 
 life. My strength is unequal to the tasks that have been laid 
 upon me; and is growing less each year. This labor on Sunday 
 left me unutterably tired and has been the case generally during 
 the year past. Sadly, nay, sorrowfully, I turn back from the 
 great joy of doing the work of a preacher of Christ's Gospel. 
 More and more must I reduce the strain put upon my strength 
 and draw in from distracting efforts and keep to the things given 
 me to do — that of a writer, that of a teacher. 
 
 Ithaca, ig June, i8qj. In the beauty and peace of the long 
 summer vacation here at home. For the next six weeks I hope 
 to live an ideal hfe, my time at my own disposal — a free man, a 
 scholar, a writer. God prosper me with health, exemption from 
 pain of body or mind, and good cheer in my work — which I 
 greatly long to finish. 
 
 Ithaca, 2g June, iSgj. "Wrought" as usual till one, with 
 much energy and glow of mind, and yet without much visible 
 progress. Was a long time in a turmoil of dissatisfaction with 
 some sentences which I could not shape to suit me. 
 
 Ithaca, I July, i8gj. So one-half of this year has rolled away. 
 Hope that the second half of it may have in store for me health, 
 spirit, and opportunity for effective work on my book. 
 
274 MOSES TYLER COIT 
 
 Ithaca, 6 July, i8qj. My home-stretch with Hopkinson is 
 to-day proving to be a far-stretch. As I shaped my plan for a 
 rather summary ending, I find my prophetic soul refusing its 
 consent. I can never do any Hterary work, unless an inward 
 arbiter smiles approval. So I flung overboard once more every 
 calculation founded on the almanac, and plod patiently and 
 slowly along the path which I must take. A solid forenoon in 
 which I struck out into lines not thought of yesterday. 
 
 Ithaca, July 14, i8gj. I stop to enter here the fact that I 
 have just finished my long chapter on Francis Hopkinson; nearly 
 ninety pages of type-written copy. Thus I have been about two 
 weeks longer with it than I had expected. But I have not wasted 
 my time; and the subject has asserted its right to attention. 
 It presents a pretty complete view of Hopkinson's Hterary ser- 
 vices to the Revolution, and shows their importance in a light 
 stronger than ever before indicated, I think. 
 
 Ithaca, 21 September, iSg^. Yesterday morning we returned 
 home from our summer's outing. 
 
 Was never more deeply contented to come back here for home. 
 Life for me is clearer, better defined, more unified. God grant 
 that this may be a year of health, domestic happiness, and use- 
 ful work. I hope that my materials for class work are in such a 
 state as to enable me to give the rest of this university year 
 pretty soHdly to this long delayed task. My motto must now 
 be — stick to it — write — finish! Fight off all thieves of the 
 morning time. The completion of this book will be to me the 
 release from a long imprisonment. I long to be doing something 
 else. May God prosper me in this work — give me strength, 
 hope, determination, steadiness. 
 
 Ithaca, 30 October, iSgj. Yesterday heard at chapel Philip 
 Moxon. A wonderful discourse on Immortality. Moxon is 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 275 
 
 as delightful in personal intercourse as he is in the pulpit — a 
 wise, tender, modest, eloquent fellow, full of thought and of 
 surprising range of reading. In my soHtude in the evening read 
 nearly two cantos of the Faery Queen. I am reading over again 
 my old loves — the English poets — for whose words I am very 
 hungry. 
 
 Ithaca, 28 November, i8q^. At dinner to meet the Russian 
 Prince Walkowsky. Afterward heard the Prince's lecture at 
 Barnes Hall to a great crowd — on My impressions of America. 
 He has much wit and tact; and is a thoroughbred in look and 
 manner. One could easily believe him to be a prince — before 
 it is mentioned. Still this particular lecture had a quality not 
 wholly to my liking — an assumption that the American people 
 were a crude, callow, ill-mannered set of novitiates in civiliza- 
 tion whom he or any other foreigner was at liberty to talk to 
 about their personal pecuKarities. 
 
 Ithaca, 2Q November, i8qs. The morning work went through 
 by force of will, rather than with power and joy. After late 
 hours last night comes a day of weary-headedness — no vivacity 
 or creativeness. I plodded through the forenoon — trying to 
 get forward in my task. Had a hard subject, too. Dr. Benjamin 
 Church, the rhyming, moody, effusive, double-faced scoundrel. 
 
 Ithaca, 5 December, i8q^. Wrote out and rewrote my sec- 
 tion on Nathaniel Evans, the Philadelphia poet. Began with a 
 heavy spirit, a discouraged brain — and by sheer will, and with 
 a dull despair of ever doing anything again that was bright and 
 readable — I pushed on horn- by hour; and finally got into a 
 higher and brighter air — and triumphed with a quiet joy. I am 
 satisfied that this is the way for me to do — go to the writing 
 table and keep at it every morning until I succeed or give out 
 from nerve-weariness. 
 
276 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca^ 14 December, 18Q3. At the end of my rope. Played- 
 out head-piece, good for nothing — nerves on a strike — stomach 
 rebellious. Couldn't even write a letter. So my usual remedy, 
 loafing in the fresh air. 
 
 Philadelphia^ 18 December, iSgj. Left Ithaca this morning 
 by D., L. & W. Arrived here at about six. 
 
 Philadelphia, 20 December, 1893. At half past six, McMaster 
 called and escorted me to the club, where I met a number of men. 
 Good company. The charm of such regular feeding reunions by 
 a lot of male duffers who have homes of their own eludes me. I 
 am greatly attracted by McMaster. He is refined, modest, 
 courteous, genuine, with an air of abstractedness and of scholas- 
 tic unworldliness. He makes no flourishes, but is very kind. 
 
 Philadelphia, 21 December, 1893. From nine to half-past 
 one, at the Ridgway. Then to the University of Pennsylvania, 
 where I was met by McMaster. Was present at one of Thorpe's 
 classes. Looked through the concern. Much pleased with 
 their work in American history. 
 
 Ithaca, 31 December, i8gj. Alone in the evening, read two can- 
 tos of the Faery Queen, a few poems of William Watson, etc. 
 Thus endeth this record of three active years, of a fruitfulness not 
 yet visible. More sadness than joy in it all, perhaps. But a 
 Higher Hand is leading us, I believe, and all will be well — 
 especially after this body takes possession of its quiet and cosey 
 little home up on the Lansing road. 
 
 Ithaca, 17 January, 1894. The morning's work was on Brack- 
 enridge, his dramatic poems; but with a heavy heart and an un- 
 willing brain. What is the matter with me? Is it mere fatigue? 
 Or is my brain perishing atom by atom? Is this cerebral dete- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 277 
 
 rioration? O God! pity. I do want to get this book written, 
 and worthily. Of course, I have little to show for this morning. 
 
 Ithaca, 18 January, 1894. Made some little headway in 
 treating of Brackenridge's Battle of Bunker Hill, but I have no 
 vim — no zest, inspiration; am dull, stupid. Had to knock 
 off work at twelve on account of weariness of nerve and brain. 
 
 Ithaca, 20 January, 18^4. Finished Bunker Hill, and then 
 reread carefully Brackenridge's Death of Montgomery. In the 
 evening read in Lytton's Last of the barons, and Henry James's 
 essays on London and on Lowell. I have no use for Henry James. 
 
 Ithaca, 16 September, 18^4. I have had great rest and am in 
 the best physical condition. Shall try to get a whack at my 
 awfully delayed book every morning (Sundays excepted) from 
 now on until it is done. God help me to do this! Oh, that I 
 had control of my time the rest of my life! 
 
 * Ithaca, 17 September, i8p4. Had to get into the swim of this 
 work of literary composition. Going over my finished chapters 
 in order to recall their contents and to judge of their quality. 
 Have been much depressed of late as to the latter point. This 
 reading gives me renewed confidence. If I can finish the book 
 in that fashion, shall not need to be ashamed of it. Find it hard 
 to get into the current of writing after so long a break. Is not 
 daily practice in writing of some such value as daily practice in 
 tennis, or piano playing, or other arts? 
 
 Ithaca, 26 September, 18^4. David B. Hill was nominated 
 for governor to-day by the Democrats upon a ticket of better 
 men. A shrewd piece of poHtics. Now for a tremendous fight. 
 As a Democrat, I wish D. B. H. may be defeated and buried low 
 down, never to rise again. 
 
278 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, 30 September, 18^4. Preached at St. John's this 
 morning, the first time since Easter a year ago, and probably 
 the last time for many a month and year. Indeed I am not 
 strong enough for it; a deadly weariness comes upon me as a 
 reaction from the excitement. Besides, unless I preach all the 
 time I get out of the true way of it, and the act becomes ama- 
 teurish and distressing. 
 
 Ithaca, 16 October, i8g4. Last night, being wakeful for many 
 hours, there came to me a flash of an idea: to precede the pub- 
 lication of my big Revolutionary volume by a pretty Httle book 
 containing three elaborately finished chapters which will not go 
 into it — viz., Berkeley, Joel Barlow, and Timothy D wight; 
 and perhaps call it Three dissimilar men. This has thrown me 
 out of the track of work for to-day. The two girls at breakfast 
 hailed the project with their applause; and I at once wrote to 
 Putnam to name it to him, and to Houghton for permission to 
 reproduce the Berkeley chapter. 
 
 Ithaca, 22 October, 1894. Each week-day busy on revision of 
 three monographs. To-day finished that of Barlow. My sec- 
 ond sober thought is one of doubt whether or not it will be best 
 for me now to pubhsh this Httle book; perhaps it is too slight a 
 thing after so long a silence. Why not get it quite ready for 
 the printer and then put it into the safe and wait. Putnam 
 writes that they will desire to publish everything I care to. 
 
 Ithaca, October 27, 1894. Have been ill much of the time 
 in bed with a cold; but secured three or four hours each morning 
 for work, and finished to-day my revision of the little book, Three 
 men of letters, and sent it off to Putnam. 
 
 Ithaca, 13 December, 18^4. This interval has been filled with 
 very hard work in college and upon the preparation and proof- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 279 
 
 reading of the little book which I so suddenly thought of pub- 
 lishing. Writing on the big book has had to wait — though 
 it has had casual and intermittent opportunities. 
 
 Ithaca, 31 December J i8g4. I sent back to Putnam page proofs 
 for Three men of letters, and yesterday the samples for covers. I 
 should think the book would be out by January 15. By one 
 year from to-night — if I am alive — perhaps I shall be able to 
 record my joy over the actual publication of The literary history 
 of the American revolution. For the next three months I shall 
 be exterminating the mob of minor writers in my list — leaving 
 a very few big ones for slow and elaborate treatment — notably 
 Franklin and Freneau. Can I finish and be ready to send the 
 book to press by July 31? Wouldn't that be fine? But alas — 
 these interruptions of college work! 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 1895—1897 
 
 Ithaca, I January, iSg^. It is four degrees below zero. Heavy 
 snow covers the earth. The sky steel blue; the sun beaming 
 down in glory, the air full of sting and life. I enter upon the 
 year in good health and with a heart to finish and dismiss the 
 great task of The literary history of the American revolution. I 
 resolve with the help of heaven to have it off my hands and in 
 the hands of those who care for it by the closing day of this 
 year. My stint for this month is nineteen names — to reduce 
 from fifty-nine to thirty. Doubtful. I now begin on old Isaac 
 Backus, the Baptist historiographer. 
 
 LETTER FROM OSCAR STRAUS TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 New York, February 3, iSg^ 
 My dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 This is Sunday night, which I have devoted with intense 
 interest and profit to the careful reading of your Three men 
 of letters. Like everything which comes from your graceful 
 and poHshed pen, these studies are fascinatingly instructive. 
 For some time I have observed, through book notices, you have 
 in preparation The literary history of the American revolution. 
 I am sure this will be a valuable book and look forward with 
 much interest to its appearance. 
 
 Amid the wear and tear of my active life in this ever-agitated 
 city, where much is done but little is finished, I often revert 
 with a feeling akin to envy to the peaceful life you and your 
 colleagues lead on University Hill. I sometimes think under 
 proper conditions I might accomplish something worth doing; 
 but then again I console myself with the thought, which you 
 have so well expressed, that, after all, this is an illusion — "the 
 
 280 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 281 
 
 tendency to mistake the whispers of ambition for the invitations 
 of genius." . . . 
 
 With best regards to Mrs. Tyler as well as yourself, 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 Oscar S. Straus. 
 
 LETTER FROM ANDREW D. WHITE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Florence, Italy, February ig, iSg^ 
 My dear old Friend : 
 
 Your book reached me night before last. After dinner I took 
 it up and never laid it down until I had read it from cover to 
 cover. It is delightful, and I thank you most heartily for or- 
 dering it sent me. 
 
 After a not unusual fashion with me, I began with the last 
 of the three essays, for my interest in French revolutionary 
 matters led me to wish to know something more of Barlow. Your 
 account of him quite carried me away. It seems both kindly, ap- 
 preciative, and strictly just. The only trouble was thathke 
 Oliver I wanted more, and was very sorry that you could not have 
 found some excuse for giving an account of his famous journey 
 into Poland to meet Napoleon and of his death there. 
 
 Next I took up President Dwight and was, if possible, more 
 interested. I never realized before the secret of the man's 
 influence. I am waiting to study portraits of historical per- 
 sonages carefully, and I have looked very intently at his. It 
 always pleased me, but seemed rather that of a good portly Pres- 
 byterian minister of the old Dr. Jerry Atwater style than any- 
 thing else. But I can now read into the lineaments of it that 
 which makes it infinitely more expressive to me; a grand old 
 fellow he was, who deserved well of his country, and you deserve, 
 well of the country for making us know it. 
 
 Last of all, I read the first, on Berkeley, and that proved 
 the cream of the whole. I am quite sure that I never read a 
 more charming and enticing beginning of an essay than that 
 which opens yours. I rose from it some time after midnight with 
 one of my old enthusiasms upon me, determined to write you 
 within twelve hours to propose a statue of Berkeley at Yale, and 
 
282 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 I am still in favor of it, as also a statue of Dwight, and will 
 gladly contribute my full share to them, say one hundred dollars 
 apiece, though I can ill afford it. Think of those two worthies 
 sitting in bronze on those pedestals in front of Osborn Hall, with 
 Woolsey on one side and some other worthy on the other. There 
 are four pedestals there, and four sitting statues would produce 
 a splendid effect. 
 
 One has already been modelled — that of Woolsey — and I 
 wish the other might be. Some day we must have some sort of 
 memorial of Berkeley at Cornell; the raison d^etre of it would of 
 course be that he was one of the founders of university educa- 
 tion in the United States. 
 
 I hope that you are to do more of this delightful kind of work, 
 of which you have given such an admirable specimen. I used 
 to say that your speech at laying the corner-stone of Sage Col- 
 lege was one of the most perfect pieces of extemporaneous ora- 
 tory of the academic sort that I ever heard, and I really feel 
 that even though I have read Matthew Arnold's Essay on Berke- 
 ley, yours is the masterpiece. 
 
 With all kind regards to Mrs. Tyler, your daughter, and your- 
 self, in which all here cordially join, I remain, my dear old friend, 
 gratefully and faithfully yours, 
 
 Andrew D. White. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Block Island, Rhode Island, 
 
 August 2, i8g^ 
 
 Well, dearest old lady, here is your old gentleman gaily sail- 
 ing into his sixtieth birthday. I admit that is not exactly a 
 jubilant thought, yet my physical sensations on this event are 
 not different from usual. Evidently, there's no use in whim- 
 pering over it. So here is to a serene and industrious Old Age, 
 and not too much of it. (Drink standing and in silence.) 
 
 I shall enclose a letter from a New York publisher making 
 a proposition virtually to sell my name for a history I did not 
 Write. There is money in it — but not honor — and I have 
 declined. 
 
MISS JEANNETTE H. GILBERT 
 
 NEW HAVEN— 1857 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 283 
 
 I have a letter from the American Book Company asking me to 
 write a text book history of the United States as soon as I finish 
 my present task. I am considering it. 
 
 I am in the drowsy mood which always attacks me at sea and 
 at the seaside, so you must not expect much exertion of intellect 
 on my part. I have been in swunming twice and am rambling 
 about in a leisurely way. . . . 
 
 Thine, M. C. T. 
 
 Block Island, August 6, iSg^ 
 . . . This is so quiet and lazy a life that I shall not have 
 much material for letters, or much cerebral energy for using it; 
 and I think I shall not inflict my marine fogs and stupors upon 
 you of tener than on Tuesdays and Thursdays — on which days I 
 shall post my letters to you. ... I am daily troubled to 
 think that my strength gave out as it did, and that I had to 
 leave you alone this month under the peculiar circumstances 
 you are in. I fear the loneliness and monotony of your life 
 — and the ceaseless strain upon your nerves — will be too much 
 for you. . . . The swim yesterday was fine; the water, 
 the surf, and the sandy beach all delightful. . . . 
 
 Thy Old Boy. 
 
 Block Island, August 15, i8q5 
 . . . I must ask you to be careful to see that your 
 letters to me are not held back in the Ithaca post-office for lack 
 of attention on your part to the proper amount of postage re- 
 quired. Here I am utterly cut off from news from you for about 
 a week; yes a full week; and now comes a card from thepost- 
 oflSce at Ithaca asking me to forward a two-cent stamp to enable 
 them to send me a letter (evidently from you, I see, because it 
 is addressed to my box here), which without such stamp would be 
 sent to the Dead Letter office in two weeks. That is vexatious 
 to a man anxious for news from home and deprived of it for such 
 a reason. I suppose I shall not get this letter before Saturday 
 or Monday next. (The scales are on the mantel in my study.) 
 In spite of all these adversities I am finding my stay here profit- 
 
284 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 able to my bodily health — though it would be more so if my 
 occasions for anxiety were fewer. But I shall be fully ready to 
 leave next Tuesday, the 20th. 
 
 I hope this letter will find you still able to bear your present 
 burdens as cheerfully as you have hitherto done. May heaven 
 protect us all and help us to a little more sunshine than we have 
 just now. 
 
 It seems to me that Block Island is rather deteriorating in 
 the quality of its summer patrons. The ocean view has a much 
 less elegant or opulent class of guests — at least judging from 
 appearances; and the look of the people at the bathing beach 
 is that of a rather uncultivated and vulgar type. I don't think 
 it makes any difference to me. I came here for the air and water 
 and rest which the Island affords — not for social Hfe, and what 
 I came for I can get and am getting — no matter what sort of 
 people there may be here. I do not mean to say that they are 
 loud or obstreperous, especially, but they have a cheap, crude 
 look. I am satisfied that I was right in following my instincts, 
 which crave Block Island this year — especially its bathing. 
 After all my experiments elsewhere I am confirmed in my 
 opinion by renewed acquaintance with this bathing beach that it 
 is upon the whole the very best one on this coast. I like it better 
 even than that of Newport or Narragansett Pier, which are 
 specially renowned. 
 
 I am having some correspondence with the American Book 
 Company in regard to the writing of a text-book on American 
 history as soon as I get the big book off my hands. Of course, 
 compared with such work as I have been doing, it will be 
 mere play, and I may hope to derive some snug income from it. 
 Still it is not settled yet. I shall not take hold of it unless I 
 am satisfied it will be so handled by the company as to pay 
 handsomely. ... M. 
 
 P. S. I expect I shall write a good many books yet if I live to 
 be seventy — but they will not be such tough ones as this I am 
 now trying to get rid of. Nor shall I ever again be so oppressed 
 by a literary burden. What I have in view will furnish congenial 
 literary occupation — not servitude and drudgery. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 285 
 
 LETTER FROM WILLIAM C. WILKINSON TO MOSES TYLER 
 
 Chicago, November 20, i8q^ 
 Dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 I have read or heard read (which for me is often better) from 
 begimiing to end your Three men of letters. I have been charmed 
 with it throughout. The subjects are in themselves highly inter- 
 esting, though possibly, except in the case of Bishop Berkeley, 
 I might not have suspected this but for your treatment of them, 
 which, like a genial incubation, has wonderfully brought out the 
 latent and political life that lurked in the theme. Your humor 
 delights me; I am almost, perhaps quite, reconciled to the irrev- 
 erent freedom of it when you call President Dwight "Timothy" 
 and Barlow "Joel." But I am glad that you abstained, as I 
 think you did, from calling Berkeley "George." 
 
 The well-bred negligee of your style is the last achievement 
 of the master. Turn, if you please, to page 106, and read the 
 paragraph ending at the top of page 107, and frankly admit that 
 you are captivated by the grace of the writer. What consum- 
 mate characterization! How exquisitely expressed! In short, I 
 consider the author of Three men of letters as good a master of 
 style as any now writing English anywhere on this continent. 
 After saying this much with all sincerity about this particular 
 book, I feel bound to add that your article on the American Loyal- 
 ists pleases me still better. It realizes about perfectly my ideal 
 of what such a paper should be. A series of essays on American 
 history treated by epochs and crises, and not seeking to achieve 
 a formal continuity of narrative, would, if done in the manner of 
 that article of yours, form a better manual of instruction for me 
 than any existing work that I know on the general subject. . . 
 
 William C. Wilkinson. 
 
 letter from THEODORE TILTON TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 75 Ave. Kleber, Paris, 
 
 December 28, i8g^. 
 My dear old Comrade and Friend : 
 
 It was with joy and affection that I received your charming 
 letter, together with the Christmas gift which accompanied it. 
 I have read your little book, wishing it were bigger. 
 
286 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 The facts which you narrate concerning your Three men of 
 letters are, for the most part, new to me; but the style, my dear 
 fellow! — the same old, simple, grave, and perfect style — easy 
 yet strong — genial yet merciless in criticism — philosophic to 
 the marrow-bone, yet often as frolicsome as a fairy tale — all 
 this I recognized so promptly that if your title page had not 
 borne your name I should at once have taxed you with the 
 authorship. 
 
 Your theory as to Berkeley's long tarriance in America had 
 never occurred to me, but your explanation seems to solve the 
 enigma. Dwight was to me in my early sermon-swallowing 
 years a magnificent bore — and never in real genius to be com- 
 pared with Jonathan Edwards. 
 
 Barlow I have not peeped into since my green and salad days, 
 and all that I now remember of him is that in his Hasty pudding, 
 he says something like this: 
 
 "It makes me blush 
 To hear rude Pennsylvanians call thee mush." 
 
 There are two other monographs which I hope you will make — 
 Washington Irving and Cullen Bryant, both of whom are sliding 
 down from their first rank — and you could hold up their names; 
 each of which ought to be a clarum et venerabile nomen. 
 
 When you come to Paris, let me know, and if I am in Siberia, 
 I will return to meet you. 
 
 Ever yours as of old, 
 
 Theodore Tilton. 
 
 Ithaca, I J January, i8g6. Gave most of the morning to J. 
 Colin Forbes, who took preliminary sittings here at my study 
 for a sketch portrait. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 St. Ignace, Mich., July 21, 1896 
 . . . I finished my last lecture at ten minutes past twelve 
 to-day; and after an ordeal of farewell greetings — with much 
 verbal confectionery which seemed to be sincere — I got my din- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 287 
 
 ner and got out of town by the 2 150 train. The journey from 
 there to Mackinaw City was through a region of pine desolation 
 and frontier roughness. My joy came about half-past four, when 
 we reached the huge black ice-crushing boat which brought us 
 across to this quiet and ancient place on the northern side of the 
 straits; the cool breath of the lake was refreshing, and the sight 
 of Mackinac Island was majestic. It is simply balmy to rest out 
 here in the cool, sweet air and to feel that my ten lectures are over 
 and I still live. I had but one lecture to-day, so that I am 
 already in a measure recovered from my previous fatigue; I 
 gave three lectures yesterday, so as to purchase the freedom to 
 escape this afternoon. 
 
 Upon the whole I am not sorry that I agreed to go to Bay 
 View. The audiences are very thoughtful and serious and most 
 attentive and in them are teachers and ministers. They are 
 heavy as regards the appreciation of any light stroke of humor, 
 but while they are very undemonstrative, I never anywhere have 
 audiences so appreciative and so grateful. After every lec- 
 ture I have had expressions of such a kind from many men and 
 women. After every lecture, too, some new surprise awaited me 
 in the revelation of an old friend or acquaintance. It seems 
 to me almost like the surprises that may come to us after death 
 when we go wandering about Paradise and stumble up against 
 an old friend at every comer. I'll tell you all about these things 
 when I get home. ... M. 
 
 Ithaca, s November, i8g6. Yesterday I finished the thirty- 
 nine chapters, and sent them to Putnam by express. They 
 weighed just nineteen pounds! I feel as if I had lost something 
 — a baby perhaps — and I can hardly realize my full freedom. 
 I'm going to vote now, and then spend the whole forenoon on 
 horseback on the high hills of Danby, and try to recuperate. 
 
 Ithaca, ly April, iSgy. At 10:40 this morning was surprised 
 by a long autograph letter from President Dwight of Yale, marked 
 personal and private, and in terms of confidence and warm 
 
288 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 friendship offering me the Emily Sanford professorship of Eng- 
 lish literature. Moreover, he states some of the inducements, 
 and appeals to my loyalty and love for old Yale. 
 
 I had not expected ever again to be pulled out from my equa- 
 nimity in this way. I am torn between the powerful attractions 
 of the two places. Jeannette was out at the time. As soon as 
 she returned I read to her Tim Dwight's letter (dear old Tim) 
 and also the first draft of my own letter to President Schur- 
 man informing him of this call and of my own embarrassment 
 respecting it. 
 
 Of course all other matters yield to this. I can think of noth- 
 ing else. Unable after luncheon to take my nap, I went down 
 town and took a long ride. 
 
 Ithaca, JO April, iSgy. Jeannette and I have visited New 
 Haven, and have wrestled in much anguish with this problem. 
 This morning I received first copy of first volume of my new book; 
 and also wrote a loving letter to dear old Tim, sorrowfully teUing 
 him that the call to Yale comes too late! Did I ever dream that 
 I could refuse a call to old Yale. 
 
 [In connection with the Sanford professorship call to Yale, 
 the following appeared in a New Haven paper:] 
 
 "It is feared that the vacant professorship in EngHsh lit- 
 erature at Yale may not be fiUed this spring, as was hoped. [It 
 is known at Yale that the faculty has thought highly of the 
 plan of offering the position to Moses Coit Tyler, head of the 
 department of American history at Cornell University. Pro- 
 fessor Tyler has just paid a visit to this city, and it has been ru- 
 mored that he held a conference with the Yale faculty on the 
 subject. It was stated this afternoon, however, on the highest 
 authority that Professor Tyler had no thought of leaving Cornell, 
 and so the chances of announcing an incumbent of the Sanford 
 professorship at present are small." 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 289 
 
 LETTER FROM PROFESSOR WHEELER, OF YALE, TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 New Haven, May 5, iSgy 
 My dear Tyler: 
 
 President Dwight showed me your letter last evening. I 
 cannot say that I am wholly disappointed, but I am awfully sorry, 
 for I had really set my heart upon your coming, hoping somewhat 
 against hope. 
 
 Your decision is doubtless correct. It is a serious and hap- 
 hazard thing for a man who has reached our time of life to tear 
 himself out of his nest, and especially out of such a nest as you 
 have made for yourself where you are. It was not to be done 
 unless you could see your way perfectly clear. 
 
 Well, Moses, let us, nevertheless, hold together somehow 
 during the years that remain, and try to meet often enough at 
 least to keep green the memories of the earlier time. 
 
 With kind remembrance to Mrs. Tyler, 
 
 Faithfully yours, A. M. Wheeler. 
 
 LETTER FROM ALBERT BUSHNELL HART TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Cambridge, May 6, 1897 
 My dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 May I most cordially thank you for the first volume of your 
 Literary history of the American revolution — not alone for the 
 copy kindly sent me by the publisher, but for the years of well- 
 directed labor, the thought, the style, and the just and im- 
 partial treatment. I have already since yesterday (having 
 bought one copy before the publisher's gift arrived) gone over 
 the whole volume, and have noted with extreme pleasure the 
 discussion of the recently serious questions of the Revolution — 
 principles, pohtical arguments, and responsibility. 
 
 How useful all your published work has been in this prepara- 
 tion of the American history told by contemporaries will appear 
 in the preface, introduction, and head notes of the work. My 
 plan has been to use your volumes after I had canvassed avail- 
 able material to suggest authors otherwise unknown to me; and 
 to aid in making final selection; and to give a background of the 
 personality of writers. . . . 
 
290 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 I should envy you, my dear Professor Tyler, in your monu- 
 ment of historical work were it not that none of your friends 
 can envy one who has put us all under obligations. I mean no 
 more than that you have accomplished what younger men dream 
 ■ — the leaving to posterity of a standard piece of literary work 
 which need never be done over again — '^perennius vere." 
 
 Sincerely and gratefully, 
 Albert Bushnell Hart. 
 
 LETTER FROM MR. HUFFCUT, DEAN OF CORNELL UNIVERSITY LAW 
 SCHOOL, TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Ithaca, May ii, i8gy 
 My DEAR Professor Tyler: 
 
 I am more delighted than I can tell you to receive an auto- 
 graph copy of your Literary history of the American revolution. 
 The charm of the book will be doubled when I read it from this 
 volume which came to me, I venture to believe, from the heart 
 of the author. The speU that fii'st took possession of me in 
 Morrill Hall about fifteen years ago is again upon me, and I 
 shall soon be levelling a charge of witchcraft against the danger- 
 ous professor of American history at Cornell University, and I 
 shall not be without credible witness. 
 Believe me, my dear Professor Tyler, 
 
 Ever faithfully, 
 
 Ernest W. Huffcut. 
 
 letter from W. D. HOWELLS TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 New York, May 23, iSgj 
 My DEAR Mr. Tyler: 
 
 I thank you for the book, which I have already tasted with 
 delight. If it should come in my way this to-be-distracted 
 summer, I would like to write of it, but I cannot promise my- 
 self anything definitely. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 W. D. HoWELLS. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 291 
 
 LETTER FROM GEORGE W. CABLE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 New York, May 2g, i8gy 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 I have been so impressed with the importance of your fascina- 
 ting Literary history of the American revolution that I propose 
 to give it an extended notice in Current literature for July. May 
 I not print in the same issue some photograph of you not hitherto 
 reproduced, and can you send me one, kindly letting me know 
 what expense it was to you, that I may remit the amount? I 
 shall count this a kind favor. 
 
 Moreover, it strikes me that in collecting such masses of ma- 
 terial for your history, as you must have been gathering for 
 years, you must have come into possession of matters — pictures 
 or other things — of illustrative value which it must have been 
 a disappointment to you not to use in your volumes. If we might 
 have a chance to make a picture or two of one or two such things 
 in a manner to make it or them worthy of your work, it would 
 add to the interest of what we wish to say in print, and to our 
 grateful sense of obligation. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 George W. Cable. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Wolfville, N. S., June 20, iSgy 
 Sunday morning 
 
 Here I am in the heart of Evangeline's land in the quiet little 
 village which is the seat of Acadia College. The college is a 
 simple frame building on a sloping eminence amid trees and 
 grass, and looks off upon miles of pretty country and the very 
 basin of Minas, on which the vessels were anchored before they 
 carried EvangeHne and her lover. 
 
 The air has a singular purity and sweetness and it smacks 
 of the sea, and it helps to peace of mind and aU slum.berous 
 moods. Of course I arrived here tired, and last night I must have 
 slept a deep sleep for more than ten hours. 
 
292 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 To go back a little and tell of my history since I left home: 
 After doing an errand or two in Boston, went back to the station 
 and got my trunk and with it on a hack drove over to the Lewis 
 wharf, where lay the steamer for Yarmouth. I rambled about 
 that place a bit till the train started; and then we rolled along 
 through a pretty country, and stopped awhile near the old for- 
 tress of Annapolis — the oldest European settlement on this 
 continent north of St. Augustine — three years older than James- 
 town. 
 
 Sunday J 2:20 p. m. The chilly rain has set in, and the whole 
 lovely country is wrapped in cold and wet. I have made use of 
 a part of my time this morning to drive over to Grand Pre — 
 the scene of the tragedy in Evangeline. I had a very intelligent 
 man for guide; and saw the site of the old church where the 
 Acadians were forced to hear the king's order of banishment; 
 the road by which they marched amid weeping women, to the 
 harbor, to be transported. . . . Moses. 
 
 21 June, i8gy. On the train from Wolfville to Windsor. 
 At the latter I am to arrive at 1 115 and shall have two hours to 
 look at the fine old place. Here Judge Haliburton lived and 
 wrote his Sam Slick. Here the LoyaKsts founded in 1788 King's 
 College — a fine old church college on a very Anglican pattern. 
 After two hours at Windsor I expect to get a train that will 
 fetch me to Halifax by six. The day is beautiful and so is the 
 country. Tide fifty feet high. 
 
 Hotel Aberdeen, Kentville, June 24, i8g/ 
 Here I am at the first stage of my homeward journey. I 
 left Hahfax yesterday afternoon, and having spent the night here 
 am to leave in about two hours for Digby, whence by steamer I 
 cross over to St. John, New Brunswick, going through Bangor, 
 Portland, etc. I feel pretty sure now that I shall go to New 
 Haven for class meeting. 
 
 My visit at HaUfax has been of much interest to me. Upon 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 293 
 
 the whole, however, I am disappointed in Halifax and in Nova 
 Scotia. They afford no very real change of scene for us; are 
 but variations of the same old American tune. HaHfax itself 
 has almost nothing that is beautiful or attractive, except what 
 Nature has done for it. It seems amazingly dull and behind- 
 hand. At this time of the year Nova Scotia is pretty, and the 
 air is certainly fine; but for a summer stay I don't think we 
 should care for it. Everywhere the standard of living seems lower 
 than ours. On the whole, I'd give more for a day in Europe 
 than for a month here. I was kept on the fly at HaHfax, yet I 
 am feeling better than when I left home, and in another week 
 shall be quite ready to resume work again on the book and finish 
 it up. . . . 
 
 Thine Old Man. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES CqiT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Boston, June 27, iSpy 
 
 . . . I was up at five yesterday morning to take the early 
 train from St. John, New Brunswick, and I travelled on the same 
 car all day till nearly ten last night, when I arrived here, thor- 
 oughly tired, as you may imagine. This morning I felt rather 
 played out, not having had a good night's sleep; and under the 
 depression of mind thus produced I resolved not to go to class 
 meeting, but to take the train for home. In the course of the 
 day my spirits have rallied somewhat and I feel more courage 
 to face the experience of seeing classmates after the changes 
 wrought by forty years, and I have resolved to go. . . . 
 
 Thine, Moses. 
 
 New Haven, 28\fune, iSgy. Have arrived all right and taken 
 rooms in a private house in Crown street. Tried to get into the 
 old house where I used to room, but it was full. Have seen no 
 one yet. Am well and glad I came. Just saw a big class go to 
 the ivy planting, etc., as we did forty years ago. They looked 
 just as we did. 
 
294 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 LETTER FROM WILLIAM CLEAVER WILKINSON TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Chicago, July 7, iSgy 
 My dear Professor: 
 
 I have this day finished with regret the reading of the first 
 volume of your Literary history of the American revolution. I 
 have seldom read anything in prose or in verse that has given 
 me such unqualified satisfaction. But this expresses my senti- 
 ment feebly. In truth my admiration and enjoyment of your 
 work have been unbounded. Your style captivates me. It is 
 nearly ideal. The delicious aeration of humor in it tickles my 
 literary respiration to such delight of hfe! No excess of humor, 
 such as that offered in that wittiest of writers, James Russell 
 Lowell, but all in admirably just and happy measure. But 
 more of course and better than the exquisite style, so lucid, so 
 direct, so urbane, so impressed with distinction of every sort, is 
 the noble largeness and justness of view, the Christian humane- 
 ness of sentiment, the candor, the wiUingness, and the sympathetic 
 capacity to see both sides and to give both credit according 
 to truth and not according to passion — in short, these are the 
 traits that should characterize the historian. For I should con- 
 fidently expect, if I followed critically upon your track in the 
 region of sources and authorities, to find that both your honesty 
 and your sagacity were equal to your need, and that the skill 
 with which you conduct narrative and with which you determine 
 the order of your progress gives your reader delightful con- 
 fidence, never failing, never disappointed in his guide. Said 
 reader marches, or, rather, trips, lightly along, no unnecessary 
 impedimenta embarrassing his movement. I empty out my 
 praise hke water escaping from a full bottle suddenly inverted. 
 The water does not get out very well, but it shows its eagerness 
 to do so. I shall quite literally wait with much impatience 
 for the second volume. I ought to say that three of us have 
 read your book, every word of it, together. We have all of us 
 enjoyed it equally. Cordially, 
 
 W. C. Wilkinson. 
 
 New York, g July, iSgy. Left home at about ten minutes of 
 eight in the morning; reached Twenty- third street. New York, 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 295 
 
 at six in the evening. At seven was at Century club to dine 
 with George Haven Putnam. Talked about literary plans. 
 He was greatly taken with my plan for developing American 
 history through biographies, after the spirit of Plutarch. 
 
 New York, 30 July, iSgj. Began early with some proof- 
 sheets that I had brought with me. 
 
 . . . Went to Pier 39, foot of Houston street, and inspected 
 the ship Massachusetts which is to carry me and my fortune 
 out into the sea to-morrow. Afterward, at twelve, called by 
 appointment on Mr. W. Appleton and discussed with him a 
 proposal that I should do the volume in American literature in 
 a series of books projected by Edmund Gosse and to be published 
 here and in London. In afternoon rested a bit; later took boat 
 to Coney Island and returned by half-past seven. Tired. 
 
 LETTER FROM CHARLES KENDALL ADAMS TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 North East Harbor, Maine, July 30, i8g^ 
 My DEAR Tyler: 
 
 I have this moment finished Volimae I of the great book. How 
 superbly you have done your work! It greatly exceeds my 
 expectations, high as they were. It is marvellous that you 
 have held the balance so evenly and have succeeded in deciding 
 all questions with such marvellous impartiaHty as to conceal 
 your own predilections. 
 
 The most successful part, or, rather, I should say the most 
 striking part, is your dealing with the LoyaUsts. I shudder to 
 think that if you and I had been born just a century earlier or 
 possibly a little more — we might at the end of the eighteenth 
 century have been "blue noses " or " Cannicks " and our descend- 
 ants might have been seeking college presidencies and fellow- 
 ships at Cornell and elsewhere! Isn't it an appalHng thought? 
 And yet you have done the Loyalists full justice without going 
 
296 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 over to their side, as I feared you would do. The chapter on the 
 Declaration is also great. It is hard for me to be quite just to 
 the blatherskite who wrote it. Inspired he doubtless was, 
 but still he was a blatherskite. 
 
 I am impatient for the second volume. When can I have it? 
 Don't think, my dear fellow, of giving up the job. You are the 
 foreordained historian of the country. In fifteen or twenty 
 more years you can double the number of your volumes and 
 pass on a magnificent growth of volumes to a grateful futurity. 
 And I? What I have done seems merely to have been throwing 
 my effort into the air — whether or not I have enriched or helped 
 anybody is more than I can guess. I look with unqualified 
 admiration upoji the way you have, for this great result, denied 
 yourself to all alluring solicitations. There are doubtless times 
 when the method of Bunyan's hero is the only way. If you have 
 put your fingers in your ears and shouted "Life, eternal life!" 
 you now have your reward. 
 
 The book, while having the same general traits as the first 
 one, deals with subjects of greater importance, and consequently 
 is entitled to higher rank. It would be hard to say when there 
 has been a contribution to our historical literature of so much 
 worth. 
 
 How I wish you could come to see us! We are here in our 
 cottage and should be dehghted to welcome you and Mrs. Tyler. 
 Can't you come,-say, the first or second week of September? We 
 go out for meals, but find in the fact no inconvenience, and we 
 can easily furnish you with the due quota of pillows and plates. 
 Mrs. Adams will join in a hearty welcome. 
 
 Remember us both kindly to wife and daughter, if she is 
 there, and believe me. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 C. K. Adams. 
 
 At Sea, 2 August, iSgy. Well, that tells my story. Sixty- 
 two years old! This was the last birthday my dear father ever 
 had; and if I live till next November I shall live as long as he did. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 297 
 
 A glorious night's sleep last night; the state-room was cool and full 
 of fresh air, and all day, under a clear sky, we have been steaming 
 along at a steady pace of about eleven knots an hour. I have 
 be'en reading Peter Ibhetson — my first taste of it; and my 
 expectations are not fully met. Comes upon me the drawing 
 to write my novel — my story of the tragic love episode of the 
 Bacon rebeUion in Virginia. Would it not be wise for me to fill 
 my mind with the subject, and write the thing out and be done 
 with it, and see what comes of it; and after that go at my Plu- 
 tarchian labors — if I live? I wonder if I shall live. Constantly 
 am I haunted this year by the thought of sudden death. It 
 is not a gloomy thought — rather is it a fascinating one — and 
 yet I should Hke to stay here ten years longer and finish a few 
 more pieces of work. 
 
 LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Corda, ShankUn, Isle of Wight, Aug. 2g, i8gy 
 
 I came down here from London day before yesterday. I had 
 no address, but looked around for an hour or two and finally 
 took this boarding establishment. It is in beautiful grounds 
 and near the sea, and is a regular continental pension, though 
 conducted by Enghsh people. There is much ceremony at table 
 and all the people but myself are Britons, apparently. Table is 
 most excellent, and for all this I am paying less than I should 
 have to do at the crude Beachcroft or even at Slaterville. But 
 what I want to tell you is my great pleasure in the Isle of Wight 
 — my joy in its air, beauty, history, life, and especially in the 
 picturesqueness of this particular place. I don't wonder that 
 Tennyson chose the Isle of Wight for his home; and it seems to 
 me that here a man could write poetry if he could do it anywhere. 
 It far more than meets my expectations in every respect. Next 
 year when we are in Europe together I should like to bring you 
 here and have you enjoy this paradise. 
 
298 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 London, September g, i8gj 
 
 . . . My departure from the Isle of Wight was last Monday 
 morning, arriving at Salisbury by noon. I spent the rest of the 
 day in and near the wonderful cathedral — the most graceful 
 one in England — and I greatly enjoyed staying at an old hotel 
 called the Crown. On the visitors' book I found the names of 
 Colonel Higginson, his wife, and daughter, who lately spent a 
 week there. On Tuesday morning I drove out to Stonehenge 
 
 — nine miles from Sahsbury. I was deeply impressed by this 
 colossal relic of an unknown past. Early in the afternoon I 
 left for Winchester, and had the latter part of the day for its 
 cathedral, and the folio-wing forenoon for the famous old school 
 and some historic places in the town. 
 
 Windemere, September 12, i8gy 
 
 At last I am getting a view of this beautiful Lake District 
 
 — this haunt and home of great literary memories — this Words- 
 worthshire, as Lowell calls it. And the weather is most glorious 
 
 — full of sunshine and clear, balmy and bracing air. Of course 
 I have not yet had time to look about much. I have just come 
 from church, where we had a most hearty service and a refresh- 
 ing sermon; and this afternoon I am going to devote to rambling 
 in this neighborhood. . . . 
 
 I want to let you know that I have quite thrown off the cold 
 which threatened me a few days ago, and am now feeling exceed- 
 ingly well and eager to sail out into the Atlantic deeps for home. 
 . . . How I wish that you were with me here now in this 
 charming place, that we could see together what it has to show 
 us. This travelling alone is hard. 
 
 [The following letters, from four well-known men to Moses 
 Coit Tyler, are placed here, although out of chronological order. 
 They were written during this trip to Europe, but were not re- 
 ceived until his return to America:] 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 299 
 
 LETTER FROM WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 August 12, i8gy 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 Your volume has just reached me and I have to thank you 
 for your great courtesy 
 
 For nearly half a century I have been an admiring student 
 of the American Revolution and I believe myself to owe to it 
 an appreciable part of my own political education. 
 Allow me to remain, dear sir, 
 
 Yours very faithfully, William E. Gladstone. 
 
 LETTER FROM EDWARD DOWDEN TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Buona Vista, Dublin, August 27, i8g7 
 Dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 I need not before writing read your first volume of The literary 
 history of the American Revolution — though I am eager to read 
 it — for I know what to expect — a great addition to my knowl- 
 edge, thorough scholarship, sound judgment, and a critical 
 method which results in the best of literary attainments — the 
 equity of large sympathy. 
 
 I have been away from home and have only just returned, 
 to find the book waiting for me. I shall not feel it fully my own 
 until I have become acquainted with all its contents. A visit 
 to Princeton last year brought me somewhat nearer to the world 
 and the past time of which you speak. I wish it had been pos- 
 sible to have gone to Cornell University, but my Dublin work 
 obUged me to return immediately after the Princeton celebration. 
 Should your second volume appear early in the autumn, it is 
 just possible that it might set me writing something for that tri- 
 lingual Cosmopolis, but it might also happen that it might give 
 me too full a sense of my own ignorance to allow me to do this. 
 I have promised to send something to the editor for November 
 or December. At present I can only wish that it were possible 
 for me to make your book the subject of an article. 
 
 Pray give my kindest remembrance to Professor Corson and 
 believe me. Very truly yours, 
 
 Edward Dowden. 
 
300 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 LETTER FE.OM FREDERICK LEWIS PATTEE TO MESSRS. PUTNAM 
 
 State College, Pennsylvania, September 4, iSgy 
 Dear Sirs : 
 
 Near the close of the summer session here I received from 
 you a copy of Vol. I of Professor Tyler's Literary history of 
 the American revolution. As I was just on the point of leaving 
 for a summer's wheeUng tour through England and Scotland, 
 I had time to give it only a glance. Since my return, however, 
 last week, I have taken the earhest opportunity of examining 
 it and I will now report my impressions. I have been long ac- 
 quainted with the history of our colonial literature by Professor 
 Tyler and I mentioned it several years ago in our text-book on 
 our hterature as the supreme authority on the period. I can 
 now extend my statement so as to include the present volume 
 in hand. Every page shows traces of great research among 
 original documents. It seems to be exhaustive. One has the 
 impression constantly that every pains that patience and schol- 
 arship can give have been exhausted to make the work a complete 
 and final authority. I believe the book is definite. I cannot 
 conceive how a more thorough and accurate history could be 
 made. I am singing its praises right and left. As I wrote 
 Professor Tyler, I have been impressed more and more with the 
 literary merits of the work. Aside from its scholarship, its 
 accuracy, its grasp of details, and its wonderful condensation, 
 it is also a work of real literary art. I find myself reading 
 chapter after chapter with headlong interest as if it were a novel. 
 
 Again thanking you for your kindness in sending me a copy 
 of the first volume of the work, I am, 
 
 Yours cordially, 
 
 Fred. Lewis Pattee. 
 
 letter from w. h. lecky to moses coit tyler 
 London, 38 Onslow Gardens, S. W., October 5, i8p^ 
 
 My DEAR Sir: 
 
 I am afraid you must have thought me very discourteous in 
 not having before thanked you for the first volume of your 
 truly original Literary history of the American revolution. . . . 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 301 
 
 I only returned last night and have already been spending 
 a considerable time on your book, which seems to me to be both 
 admirable in its thoroughness and a perfect marvel of the candid 
 treatment of a highly controversial subject. It is full of instruc- 
 tion to both our countries and will, I am sure, tend powerfully 
 to the end which you have so well indicated in your preface. 
 I am delighted that the concluding volume is actually in the 
 press. 
 
 Believe me, my dear sir, 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 W. H. Lecky. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 LETTER FROM EDMUND GOSSE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 London, zg Delamere Terrace, Jan i, i8g8 
 
 Dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 I have to thank you for very many kind letters and gifts. 
 But the announced Vol. II of The literary history of the 
 American revolution did not come. So I eventually possessed 
 myself of it in the ordinary way; and I have written a belated 
 review of it (of no sort of value) which I enclose as a New Year's 
 greeting. It shows, I hope, good will and appreciation of your 
 excellent work, which indeed needs no bush. 
 
 Perhaps you will take my review as a letter and forgive a 
 brief note from me to-day, as my hands are rather full. 
 
 With all the most cordial wishes of the season, I am, my dear 
 Professor Tyler, Very sincerely yours, 
 
 Edmund Gosse. 
 
 letter from WILLL\M C. WILKINSON TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Chicago, February 26, i8g8 
 My dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 I have just finished the second volume of your Literary history 
 of the American revolution, and I wish to congratulate you on 
 the happy achievement of your noble task. I have constantly 
 admired the competent knowledge of your subject everywhere 
 displayed ; the fine sympathy with everything lovely and of good 
 report; the even judicial balance between this side and that stead- 
 ily maintained; the penetrative sagacity that has guided you safely 
 where there was such excellent chance to go astray; the blithe 
 humor with which you have — using the wisdom of the not too 
 
 302 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 303 
 
 much — lavished your pages, and the fine, choice, copious diction 
 and felicitous phrase and satisfactory rhythm that gave distinc- 
 tion to your style. You have done your work so well that no 
 one worth considering will ever attempt to do it better. 
 
 Cordially, 
 
 Wm. C. Wilkinson. 
 
 letter from moses coit tyler to the editor of 
 the new york tribune 
 
 Cornell University, March i, i8g8 
 Sir: 
 
 I beg you to accept my thanks for the excellent notice of 
 my books as given by you in your literary department last 
 Sunday. Ever since I became a writer for the public I have 
 received generous appreciation from the Tribune, and have reason 
 to remember as long as I live the help given to me by your old 
 literary editor, George Ripley. For this reason I had been es- 
 pecially concerned that my recent pubHcations were to be over- 
 looked by you — a token now happily removed. 
 
 I write more particularly to say that those who know are 
 already giving me xmmerciful chaff on account of the extraor- 
 dinary image which in the same paper was pubHshed over my 
 name. For instance, yesterday afternoon, as I went to vespers, 
 my rector met me at the church door, and in earnest tones asked 
 me if I "were not going to miurder the editor of the Tribune.''^ 
 You will agree with me that when a minister of religion begins 
 to prompt one of his parishioners to homicide, the case must be 
 an aggravated one. 
 
 I wish to assure you, however, that not yet has the homicidal 
 mania seized me, and I content myself for the present by asking 
 you to accept a copy of my latest photograph, and to be so good 
 as to hold it up for a moment by the side of the portrait which 
 you have innocently sent to your readers as mine. The practical 
 effects of such a representation are likely to be felt in a disastrous 
 way by my publishers, if the remark of one of my colleagues is 
 justifiable — that he would not buy or read the book of an author 
 who looked like that — nay, he would not admit the book into 
 his house. 
 
304 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 You see, therefore, dear Mr. Tribune, that you have got me 
 into a scrape. The amount of derision that I am receiving, 
 here at present, both personally and through the post-office 
 has perhaps this advantage, that it conduces to Lenten hu- 
 mihty, to a general loss of appetite, and to much fasting and 
 prayer. 
 
 I don't know whether the photo I send you is capable of 
 being used by you at any time in a manner Hkely to remove the 
 ghastly impression to which I now refer; but if my old friend, 
 Mr. Whitelaw Reid, should happen to be personally present 
 when this letter reaches you, I think his benevolent spirit would 
 find satisfaction in advising that some attempt at reparation 
 be made to me. However, I want you to understand that I am 
 getting great spiritual good out of this discipline. 
 
 Yours sincerely, Moses Coit Tyler. 
 
 LETTER FROM EDWARD DOWDEN TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Buona Vista, Dublin, April 8, i8g8 
 Dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 I have allowed long ungrateful — no, not ungrateful — 
 months to slip away without thanking you for your second 
 volume. I do not know when I have read a book that more fills 
 the mind and satisfies it. I think the explanation of its distin- 
 guishing quahty lies in entirely adequate knowledge and the 
 spirit of intelligent and sympathetic justice. As I told you, I 
 hoped to attempt an article on the suggestion of your book in 
 Cosmopolis, but the editor, while beguiling me with the possi- 
 bihty that he would invite me to write such an article at 
 some future time, told me that he specially wanted an article 
 on Heine, and as I happened to know my Heine fairly well, so 
 it had to be. 
 
 I saw that you had consented to write an American literature 
 for Mr. Heinemann's series of literatures of the world. Good 
 luck for Mr. Heinemann and good luck for many readers, but 
 for my own part I like the sufficiency and wealth of a big book, 
 and if the lives are clearly drawn, the breadth and depth united, 
 even the delaying of the mind on a subject is a gain. How- 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 305 
 
 ever, if you pursue your work on the ampler scale, I shall find 
 some cause to thank Heinemann for his skill in capturing 
 you. . . . Sincerely yours, 
 
 E. DOWDEN. 
 LETTER FROM EDMUND GOSSE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 London, 2g Delamere Terrace, June 11, i8g8 
 My DEAR Tyler: 
 
 I am looking forward to your book with the greatest antici- 
 pations of enjoyment. 
 
 By the way, the Appletons (who seem to be afraid to write to 
 you direct) beg me to keep you up to the scheme of the Amer- 
 ican literature. But I refuse to hurry you. 
 
 I have had a letter from Professor Brander Matthews, in 
 which he congratulates me on seeing you. And indeed I am 
 proud enough, and need no congratulations. 
 
 Always cordially yours, 
 
 Edmund Gosse. 
 
 letter from ernest w. huffcut to moses coit tyler 
 
 Cornell University, July 12, i8g8 
 My dear Professor Tyler: 
 
 The glimpses are a joy. So is the glimpser. I always wanted 
 to know him when he was just out of college and looking around 
 with a humorous eye upon men and things preparatory to set- 
 tling down. I've a kodak of him at that interesting period, thanks 
 to him, and I like it very much. It was a happy thought to 
 give us these sketches of a generation ago, for they have kept 
 wonderfully well, and the fragrance is as the fragrance of yes- 
 terday. Thank you for the bouquet. 
 
 Ever faithfully yours, 
 
 Ernest W. Huffcut. 
 
 Ithaca, I August, i8g8. At 8:40 a.m. we two left the East 
 Ithaca station for Canastota and Lake George. Reached the 
 latter (Caldwell) at about eight in the evening, belated, and in 
 
3o6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 a heavy storm of rain and thunder. We are at the Lake House 
 and in one of the cottages. 
 
 Caldwell, 2 August, i8g8. Mtatis 63. Before breakfast I got 
 out to orient myself, having been pitchforked into the town 
 last night in the darkness. The air is worthy of the fame of 
 this place for that article. At nine we took boat across the 
 length of Lake George. We are charmed with the beauty of 
 Lake George. I got a clear idea of the site of Fort Ticonde- 
 roga; and revised my impression of Burlington, Vermont, which 
 I saw last in August, 1 86 1. We reached Plat tsburg at 7:00 P.M. 
 
 Plattshurg — Montreal, j August, i8g8. After breakfast we 
 took electric car for the Hotel Champlain, a superb hotel on a 
 noble height about six miles south of this town. On the way 
 going and coming we had a view of the Army Barracks — a 
 series of comfortable brick buildings with suitable grounds for 
 drill and parade; also of the Champlain Assembly grounds — 
 the Catholic Summer School, not far from the Hotel Champlain. 
 this Catholic Chautauqua has a quiet look, not much like the 
 big concern in western New York. At about half-past twelve 
 we took the train for Montreal, getting a glimpse of Fort Mont- 
 gomery, near Rouse's Point, arriving at Montreal at 3 :oo p. m. 
 We have taken up our abode at the Queen's Hotel — too near 
 the station, and otherwise less agreeable than we expected. We 
 should not star it as Baedeker has done. After getting our 
 trunks through the customs, we took electric cars to Mount 
 Royal, overlooking the city; ascending the hill by an incline 
 cable car — much to the disapproval and discomfort of my 
 companion, who, on the top of the mountain, seemed to fear 
 that she was in danger of falling off. A noble view of the city, 
 mountain and plain, but less spacious than would have been the 
 case had the sky been clear. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 307 
 
 Montreal, 4 August, i8g8. After breakfast we went to the 
 office of the Richelieu and Ontario Navigation Company, and 
 secured our state-room for the steamboat to Quebec, leaving 
 at seven to-night. Then we visited the old church of Notre 
 Dame, etc. — Dominion Square — and the objects of interest 
 
 adjacent to each. J would not go into the Cathedral of 
 
 St. James, as it is an imitation of St. Peter's at Rome, at about 
 half size. I found it cheap looking outside and in; the pedestals 
 of the columns being wooden substitutes for the granite or marble 
 they pretended to be. I went alone to see McGill University. 
 Fine substantial buildings, especially the library. All had a 
 look of efficiency and thrift. I could not get into the Anglican 
 Cathedral, which apparently is open for the uses of a cathedral 
 only now and then; at least it is not what it should be — a 
 place for rest and meditation and prayer all day long and every 
 day in the week. 
 
 . . . Having got ready to start for Quebec, we amused 
 ourselves by spending part of the afternoon in an electric car 
 ride out to a new village called Cartier, about six miles up the 
 river; then back around the mountain. 
 
 At 5:45 we left the Queen's Hotel by cab for steamboat 
 to Quebec. The sail down the river is charming. I was in Quebec 
 just thirty-seven years ago — ^August, 1861 — ^just after the battle 
 of Bull Run; myself in poor health. I was greatly impressed by 
 its look of solidity and massiveness — more so than now. Prob- 
 ably my standard has changed; certainly my own mental and 
 physical conditions have done so. 
 
 Quebec, August 6, i8g8. We were on deck from about seven 
 till our arrival at the wharf at half -past eight in the morning. 
 Watching for the first view of the Heights of Abraham and the 
 Citadel. The banks of the noble river were lower than I had 
 thought; but I was not disappointed in the sturdiness of Quebec. 
 
3o8 £M0SES COIT TYLER 
 
 We went to Hotel Victoria for breakfast. Then looked for 
 quarters for our week or two here, and finaUy decided in favor 
 of 3 St. Louis street, close by the Chateau Frontenac and the 
 Esplanade. Then at leisure we rambled on the Esplanade 
 and sat there long, looking at the glorious scene — almost un- 
 surpassed of its kind. Then a car ride out to the scene of 
 Wolfe's victory and death — not alighting. 
 
 Quebec, 6 August, i8g8. The day has been spent in studying 
 the places nearest to us; the Citadel, and the things en route, 
 then the streets and houses between here and the Basilica. Last 
 of all a car ride to Wolfe's monument. The place of his death 
 is on the southern slope of a hill — the highest elevation on 
 the Plains of Abraham — and in that spot he could hardly have 
 seen much of the action in front — unless indeed it was some 
 to the left. Much of the plain is now covered with streets, 
 houses and enclosures; and it requires an effort to picture the 
 scene. 
 
 Quebec, 8 August, i8g8. Our great tour to-day has been across 
 
 -J. / by ferry to Le^is, with its view of the Citadel; and then by boat 
 
 / to Sillery, from where we were able to see Wolfe's Cave and the 
 
 * neighborhood, the path by which he made his ascent up the cliff 
 
 to his last battlefield. 
 
 Quebec, g August, i8g8. After breakfast we took Pat Granary's 
 cahche (including Pat himself and his nag) and, going to the 
 Lower Town and though the Champlain road out to WoKe's 
 Cave, ascended the cliff to the upper lands forming the Plains 
 of Abraham. We drove up the dwindling road that now enables 
 people to do easily what was not so easy for Wolfe and his men 
 — I declined the ride, but preferred to share with Wolfe a small 
 bit of glory — of going up afoot. I corrected my historical 
 impression of Wolfe's achievement in some particulars. For 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 309 
 
 example, it was not difficult to see that access to the heights 
 might be gained there, for the steep and regular face of the long 
 bluff is there broken by a wide recess or cove. The bluff is 
 much lower at that point and, in fact, dies away. It appears 
 also that he and his men simply followed the dry rocky bed of 
 a stream called St. Denis, that at times poured down there. 
 I was unable to identify this stream-bed, and suppose that the 
 winding road partly covers it. Nevertheless, the ascent was 
 steep enough and rough enough to make the act a labor, 
 especially with knapsacks, gims, etc. Obviously, too, it had 
 been deemed possible by the enemy that Wolfe might attempt 
 it; for Montcalm had ordered a brigade to be stationed on the 
 ground just above it, and if it had not been for the indolence of 
 others Wolfe's great achievement would have been prevented. 
 
 Steamer Carolina, 12 August, i8g8. We sailed from Quebec 
 at about half -past eight and had a charming journey down the 
 St. Lawrence, going by the southern channel past the Isle of 
 Orleans, and greatly interested in the thirty miles of rocky 
 solitude on the northern shore, in the sight of the two points 
 enclosing Murray Bay, in the bright and winsome Riviere du 
 Loup, in Cacuma seen from a distance, and finally in Tadusac, 
 where the boat lay from eight in the evening until midnight. 
 We stroUed up to the hotel; and to the ancient church, its founda- 
 tions dating from 1647, and its walls from 1747, with a picture 
 given by Louis XIV. A kindly priest was there to show it to us 
 and to add to its revenues by the sale of some photographs of it. 
 
 On Steamer Carolina, 13 August, i8g8. We awoke at a dock 
 which we found to be at the head of Ha-Ha Bay, and by about 
 ten we had steamed thence and up into the other arm of the 
 Saguenay to the town of Chicoutimi. There we had an hour, 
 which I spent in looking about. The cathedral is large, and 
 
3IO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 within has a stately impressiveness. A new hotel. Tokens 
 of pre-eminence of the Price family — the lately deceased head 
 of which was the lumber king of the Saguenay. After the boat 
 left the wharf, and while we were sitting near the prow, my name 
 was spoken by one behind us, who proved to be Mr. Charles 
 Hughes, once our next door neighbor on the campus, now a 
 lawyer of briUiant activity in New York. His company added 
 charm to the day's enjoyment of the far-famed Saguenay. The 
 region of Trinity and Eternity mountains is very noble; other- 
 wise I felt that the scenery had been overpraised. It did not 
 reach my expectations, either as to beauty or sublimity. Still, 
 one is glad to have seen it; and to be able to check off the Sague- 
 nay on one's card of life-doings, as done. We again lay at Ta- 
 dousac, and this swift steamer had to loiter at various places 
 in order to keep from getting back to Quebec too soon. 
 
 From Quebec to Sherbrooke, 14 August, i8g8. After disposing 
 of our tnmks, we went to the Hotel Victoria for breakfast and 
 dinner, resting comfortably. Our farewell walk in Dufferin 
 Terrace, beneath the historic Citadel and in view of the river and 
 island and distant mountains that frame in the harbor of Quebec, 
 abide long in my mind as something of surpassing beauty and 
 nobiUty. 
 
 Between three and foiu: we crossed Lewis ferry and in due 
 time — i. e., about half past-nine— arrived at Sherbrooke and went 
 to the Magog House, named thus hideously in deference to the 
 river that passes through the town. Our ride in the hotel omni- | 
 bus was enhvened by a scene with the driver, who had crowded i 
 the Uttle vehicle with people and loaded it down with tnmks, | 
 all of which he tried to make one poor horse draw up hill. Final- i 
 ly, I roared angrily to him to stop and let us out, as we would | 
 not share any longer in such brutality; and my voice so terrified | 
 the women and children who had jammed themselves into the ! 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 311 
 
 omnibus that they all rushed out of it, and so reduced the 
 load to its normal size. 
 
 Sherbrooke to Bethlehem, N. H., 15 August, i8g8. After a 
 good breakfast we took trips in the electric cars to Lenoxville, 
 where there is a noted college founded by the Anglican Bishop 
 WiUiams; and then on the belt around Sherbrooke, which has 
 some pretty streets and houses. I got a glimpse of a new kind 
 of a mm — one of the Sisters of the Precious Blood. At eleven 
 we left for Bethlehem, New Hampshire, which we reached after 
 many shiftings from train to train, many delays at stations, and 
 much lack of nourishment, at about a quarter of six. 
 
 Bethlehem, 16 August, i8g8. The Gramercy. A glorious 
 night's rest. The day has been spent in feeling our way around. 
 I strolled alone toward the middle portion of the village — the 
 big hotels, the shops, etc. Bought Sweetzer's Guide to the 
 White Mountains and a Bird's-eye view of them, and have 
 begun to study the subject. 
 
 LETTER FROM ANDREW D. WHITE TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Hotel Metropole, Hamburg, August 20, i8g8 
 My DEAR Friend: 
 
 . . . Now as to your book. Like everything you write, 
 it gives me the greatest pleasure. When I first took up the book, 
 I thought you were doing a risky thing in recalling experiences 
 of so many years ago, but, as I read, I found them as fresh, as 
 profitable, and as interesting as if they were first written yes- 
 terday. I took up first your essay on Lord John Russell, and 
 it wrought a decided change in my opinions. I remember at- 
 tempting to soothe the indignation of my students at Ann Arbor, 
 just at the beginning of the Civil War, by sa5dng, "Wait until 
 Lord John Russell speaks," and alas! how he spoke, and how he 
 acted, we remember but too well. Nothing since that time, I 
 think, has given me a more exquisite joy in existence than that 
 I had lived to hear him groan under the Alabama Award. 
 
312 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Do you remember what Goldwin Smith said of him? As a 
 young man, Goldwin was frequently with Earl Russell, and he 
 told me that the great statesman made on him the impression 
 of "an eminent corn doctor." I was not aware of his refrigerative 
 character imtil you informed us, and then I saw an additional 
 argument in behalf of the theistic view of history in the fact 
 that, just in the nick of time, Mr. Charles Francis Adams was 
 designated by Providence to deal with him in the matter of the 
 cruisers. 
 
 You remember how some of the papers advised, during a 
 terribly hot summer in Kansas, that Mr. Adams should be sent 
 to travel through the state. Strange, indeed, on any other but 
 the providential theory of history, that he should have been 
 brought in contact with your "peripatetic refrigerator." 
 
 Then I took up a number of the others. I think the one that 
 tickled me most was that on "American reputations in 
 England," and as an admirable example of lightness of touch your 
 statement that, in reference to Stephen A. Douglas, an American 
 traveller sees that "a real contribution has been made to the 
 general stock of the gayety of nations." I do not know 
 whether I have told you that one morning Henry Stevens in 
 London told me that the night before, at a dinner party, George 
 Grote, the historian, though on our side, scolded bitterly against 
 the incapacity of the American generals, especially as shown by 
 the fact that McClellan in Virginia and Fremont in Missouri 
 had not formed a sudden junction and overwhelmed Lee. 
 
 I might pick out fifty more things which have delighted me 
 thus far, but spare you. I would gladly tackle you on Gladstone, 
 whom I admire in a way, but who seems to me the most com- 
 plete sophist that ever existed. 
 
 This book of yours, as the others have done, arouses in me 
 new desires and expectations regarding your American Plutarch. 
 My dear fellow, you have the best chance in the world. Such a 
 book as that, which I hope you are writing, ought to do a world 
 of good, and at the same time increase your fame and future. 
 Think of the effect of the old Plutarch! It has been enormous, 
 and I am more and more surprised, as I roam over various his- 
 torical epochs, to find what a vast number of leading men have 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 313 
 
 been inspired by it. You can do as good work for Americans 
 and doubtless for many outside of our country. You have an 
 admirable way of presenting the main points; you are brief 
 without being dry; and you have a genial humor which carries 
 your reader along with you inevitably. Now, my dear old boy, 
 lay yourself out on these books; try hard, but do not try too hard. 
 Please give all kind messages from me to Mrs. Tyler and Mrs. 
 Austen, accepting no end of good wishes for yourself, and 
 with renewed thanks I remain, 
 
 Most heartily yours, 
 
 Andrew D. White. 
 
 P. S. There is only one thing about your book that I do not 
 like, and I think that I must have complained of the same thing 
 in reference to other books. You certainly ought to attach 
 your professional title to your name; first, because the person 
 who picks up the book has a right to be reminded of the position 
 which you hold, and, secondly, because the university, it seems 
 to me, has a right to be honored in this way. Strange as it may 
 appear to many people, I have noticed on the part of many 
 American professors and others a sort of modesty such as our 
 English cousins never show, and in which I believe we make a 
 mistake — namely, the frequent American habit of leaving off a 
 man's position from the title page of any book which he publishes, 
 or from his card. The Englishman, who generally cannot be 
 complained of for lack of straightforwardness, never does these 
 things. A. D. W. 
 
 Bethlehem, 28 August, i8g8. At Echo Hill House still — which 
 proves to be a delightful place for everything except food. All 
 day spent in reading and rambling in the neighborhood. 
 
 Jackson, 31 August, i8g8. This morning we walked up to 
 a higher knoll on Black mountain — a very considerable cHmb 
 for novices. Vast sweep of vision for us. The top of Mount 
 Washington is under a veil all the time. We have given up the 
 hope of seeing it this season. We should be here later in Sep- 
 tember. 
 
314 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Jackson, 2 September, i8g8. We begin to plan our departure 
 homeward next Monday. A long telegram came last night from 
 the New York world asking my opinion as to what we should 
 
 do with the PhiUppines. J withheld it from me till this 
 
 morning — as I had gone to bed. Good girl! I should have 
 muddled over it and spoiled my sleep, which was so deep that 
 I ignored a vehement thunderstorm that is said to have come 
 upon us during the night. 
 
 Boston, 6 September, i8g8. This morning I called on my old 
 friend Dr. S. A. Green, at the temporary quarters of Massachu- 
 setts Historical Society in the Tremont building, and had a very 
 genial and reminiscent visit with him. The old boy seemed glad 
 to see me. 
 
 Afterward called on F. J. Garrison, and Houghton, Mifilin 
 & Co., where I also saw for the first time Mr. Mifflin. In the 
 afternoon for refreshment we sailed to Nantasket Beach. We 
 saw the battleship Massachusetts, and hundreds of admiring 
 citizens thronging upon her decks. 
 
 Boston, y September, i8g8. From half -past nine till about 
 four in the afternoon was attending the meeting of the Tyler 
 Family Association at Tremont Temple. A rather wearisome 
 affair, in the most execrably hot and unventilated rooms. 
 
 Later we went to get the fresh air from the electric car and were 
 overtaken by the most tremendous rainstorm. A bad job — 
 that excursion. 
 
 8 September, i8g8. We left Boston at io:oo A. m. and reached 
 New London at about 12 150. We were met by Cousin G. D. C. 
 and escorted to Cousin E.'s house on Easton place. We strolled 
 over the beach in the afternoon and saw houses and lands owned 
 by the Tylers — descendants of Hopestill, I suppose. 
 
 i 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 1899 — 1900 
 
 [Eight months of the year 1899 were spent in rest and travel 
 in the southern countries of Europe. In a letter dated Amalfi, 
 April 9th, he wrote to his daughter as follows:] 
 
 . . . The individual here sees only his own immediate 
 concern — is imable to see the indirect advantage to himself 
 to come from the promotion of other interests. I said to a 
 German at the hotel that I was surprised at the small amount 
 of shipping at Naples. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "and the reason is that they build no docks; 
 ships cannot load and unload directly from the shore; passen- 
 gers and goods have to be embarked or disembarked through 
 the intervention of small boats." 
 
 "But why not build docks?" 
 
 "Ah! the owners of the small boats object — they would 
 lose their business." 
 
 These poor men could not reason far enough to see that with 
 docks would come increase of shipping, with far more employ- 
 ment for them in other capacities and a general accession of 
 commerce to the port. 
 
 I remarked on the advantage to Amalfi, and the other villages, 
 of the magnificent road which at so great cost has been hewn out 
 along the mountain rocks of that coast. It tempts hundreds 
 of thousands of tourists to drive over that magnificent coast- 
 line highway; and these sustain hotels and the other servitors 
 of opulent travel. 
 
 315 
 
3i6 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Yet the boatmen of Amalfi, who used to row passengers from 
 that town to Positano, were in a rage at the building of the road, 
 and used to try to stop it by mobbing the workmen and by un- 
 doing at night what the latter did by day. Yet the building 
 of that road has brought a thousand tourists to that coast where 
 formerly was only one. The same rage for particularism shows 
 itself in the octroi, which is Dingleyism at its utmost extension 
 into absurdity. 
 
 The town of Naples stations an armed guard at every road 
 of approach and collects a tax on every egg, every cabbage, 
 every fish that is brought into town. At the first day of our 
 arrival at Naples we went out to Posilipo; and as the returning 
 tram-car reached a certain point it was halted by two soldiers, 
 one of whom rudely demanded of an old woman in the car 
 what was under her apron. She raised it and shook it to show 
 him that she was not committing the crime of smuggling a crumb 
 of bread into the city. All these officers are forbearing toward 
 tourists. Of course, the government is too wise to drive away 
 such valuable contributors to the pubHc and private weal. 
 
 Yesterday, before we came to Positano, I saw a cart stopped 
 by an officer who found therein a small quantity of macaroni 
 and a little basket of eggs. These he seized and bore off in tri- 
 umph to his office near by, apparently to fix the amount which 
 the poor peasant was to pay for the privilege of carrying this 
 stuff into Positano. 
 
 At Naples the line of the shore is marked by a wall, with 
 here and there an opening where stands a soldier to collect a 
 tax on every fish that is caught in the bay and brought through 
 for sale or consumption. 
 
 There is a monopoly in salt — which is dear in Italy; and 
 in Naples no man may dip a pailful of water out of the sea — 
 lest he should take it home and make a thimbleful of salt on which 
 he had paid no tax. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 317 
 
 Yet such political economy has prevailed in Italy since before 
 the Caesars. Will not our American high tariff — nay, the 
 custom system of the nations — yet seem as preposterous to most 
 of us as does this miserable system of local greed and jealousy — • 
 each town retaliating upon every other by petty interferences 
 with the freedom of trade. , 
 
 I asked an ItaHan about this. He shrugged his shoulders, 
 cast up his eyes, and said: "In Italy even the air is taxed." 
 
 On arrival at Sorrento some days ago we were rowed along 
 the coast nearly a mile to the landing for Hotel Cocumella. On 
 the way we met a larger boat rowed by six oarsmen in blue 
 livery. Two gentlemen sat in the stern. One of them, with a 
 full black beard, apparently about thirty-five or forty years of 
 age, was Marion Crawford. Our boatman pointed out his 
 villa, a little way from our hotel. In the portrait of him which 
 I have seen he is only moustached. His appearance is stronger 
 and less commonplace with the beard. Twice we have strolled 
 through the narrow, winding, high-walled road which passes his 
 front gate. This is in charge of a porter who evidently needs 
 to be told to keep out intruders. I had some thought of sending 
 him my card, but have heard here that he is much afficted with 
 tourists — just as Tennyson was to a still greater degree. So I 
 keep my card and my dignity. Besides, lion-hunting has never 
 been my favorite sport. The last time we walked near his 
 house, we met four wholesome-looking children — two girls and 
 two boys — with a governess and a tutor and talking pure and 
 pretty English. Probably they were Crawford's children. 
 
 LETTER PROM THEODORE TILTON TO MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 Paris, 75 Ave. Kleber, July 2g, i8gg 
 My DEAR Moses: 
 
 Before answering your letter written from Folkestone, I wished 
 to finish my perusal of your noble brace of volumes. 
 
3i8 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 This pleasant duty has occupied me during every hour of 
 my leisure time since you left Paris. I have at last gone care- 
 fully through the whole work; and though I must here speak 
 of it with the enforced muteness of epistolary pen and ink, 
 yet I feel rather like jumping up from my chair, waving my pen- 
 handle over my head, and calling out with a living and ob- 
 streperous voice, "Well done!" 
 
 In fact, my dear fellow, I take a personal pride in these noble 
 books — coming as they do from the brain and soul of one 
 of my life-long and dearest friends. 
 
 How I wish I could have your literary companionship day 
 by day or once a week — to talk with you of things past, present, 
 and to come! 
 
 I missed you at once after you had fled away. 
 
 If we never meet again in this life, let this letter testify to you — 
 with all my heart — that your recent visit was a great refresh- 
 ment to my spirit — an episode which I shall not forget. Like 
 many other best things, it ended too soon. . . . 
 
 Ever yours as of old, 
 
 Theodore Tilton. 
 
 LETTERS from MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE, RELATING TO HIS 
 LAST TRIP TO BOSTON 
 
 Boston, December 24, i8gg 
 . . . The long journey did not prove very fatiguing, but in 
 one of the several changes, I stupidly (and characteristically!) left 
 my — i. e., your old, renovated — umbrella. I seem to be possessed 
 this year by a sort of demon of benevolence — in endowing my 
 fellow beings with these useful devices for protection against 
 rain and sun. As to rain, we are getting it here to-day; and 
 there's less sun than is usual in the glorious climate of Ithaca. 
 I suppose you read in yesterday's paper the account of the 
 appalling catastrophe at Amalfi — the awful rock-slide which 
 carried the Hotel Capucini down into the sea, and with it all 
 the houses and people in its track, including our dear little 
 hotel — the Santa Catarina. Perhaps those earnest and oblig- 
 ing people are among the victims of this new and most awful 
 form of destruction. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 319 
 
 Besides going to Trinity Church, where I saw the new and 
 majestic and almost animated bust of Phillips Brooks, I have 
 spent almost two hours in walking about the city and noting 
 the changes. This was before the rain came on. I quite 
 enjoyed this stroll aiid especially the keen, bracing, salt sea air, 
 which really has a substantial quality that you never feel in 
 air not saturated by the sea. 
 
 I enclose a long cutting from to-day's Boston herald dealing 
 in the speculative battles that are going on in copper values. 
 
 To me they suggest danger — the uncertainty attaching 
 to shares in copper mines as these are manipulated and played 
 with and kicked about by the colossal financial athletes of the 
 country. It seems like resting one's little savings on a chip 
 that is tossing on the waves of Boston Harbor — and may come 
 home again or may sink. In other words, say what one may, 
 this is speculation with vengeance in the form of risk; you 
 may win; you are quite as likely to lose. 
 
 For my part, I doubt if I shall ever put anything into copper 
 stocks; and I should feel happy if you all would draw out of 
 them as soon as you can without loss. As for me, give me the 
 good, old conservative and orthodox investments in the form 
 of real estate. Such estate is real — copper stocks are not, 
 they are only conjectural — they are splendid possibilities. 
 At least, so it seems to me this Sunday afternoon in Boston 
 town — the very cradle and nursery of copper stocks. 
 
 Lovingly, M. 
 
 Bostontown, December 26 j iSgg 
 Dearest Gurrl: 
 
 Well — the rain of Sunday is no more; it died a "natoral 
 death," as David Harum would say, on the eve-nin' of the day 
 it was born. Yesterday was a clear, cool, beautiful Christmas 
 day. I had a note from Professor A. B. Hart asking me to tele- 
 phone him as soon as I could after my arrival. That I did 
 yesterday morning, with the result that I was invited to a family 
 dinner at his house at one o'clock. I enjoyed seeing his home, 
 his wife, his two little boys, and his books and toolshop generally. 
 
320 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 The dinner was a quiet one, the children being present in 
 honor of the day. After a further visit I called on Mrs. Justin 
 Winsor, who seemed rejoiced that I did so. The last time I was 
 here to attend a meeting of the Historical Association I was her 
 guest, and her husband and daughter were in the full tide of 
 health. I was glad that she hked to talk about the old times 
 I had had again and again at her house, and also about her hus- 
 band and her splendid daughter. 
 
 I got back to my room by dark; and had a nice evening 
 chuckHng to myself over David Harum. 
 
 This day has passed in a serene sort of way. I had expected 
 Hart to join me for a trip to Revere Beach and a morning's 
 stroll by the surf; but he telephoned that a lot of people had 
 piled in upon him and he couldn't come, so I went alone. I had 
 never seen it. 'Tis a noble beach, but must be a very hive of 
 plebeians in summer — overrun by Boston cockney dom of all 
 colors. The air was rather bitter to-day and I concluded that 
 I had been lucky in my decision not to go for a Christmas basking 
 on the rocks of Cape Ann. 
 
 This afternoon I walked away out Boylston street to the 
 Fenway, and had a nice visit with dear old Dr. Greene in the 
 superb new home of the Historical Society. He gave me a 
 hearty welcome and inquired cordially after you. On my way 
 back I dropped in at the Brunswick, where our association has 
 its headquarters. Moses. 
 
 LETTERS FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Hotel Athenceunij Chautauqua, July j, igoo 
 Dearest little Girl: 
 
 I gave my first lecture at half-past two to the usual 
 audience in the Hall of Philosophy and was introduced by 
 George Vincent. They are a dull and commonplace looking lot 
 of people, and many of the faces had a depressing look as of 
 hopeless stupidity. They were not easy to get hold of — cer- 
 tainly not responsive to deHcate strokes. However, after it was 
 over I was greeted by many of them — some who remembered 
 my former visit. Our precocious Southern boy (from Florida) 
 also spoke to me; now twenty years old and just graduated. 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 321 
 
 One old lady challenged my acquaintance, but I could 
 not recall her name, though her face I was conscious 
 of having seen; and she had to tell me that she was 
 Mrs. , now a widow. 
 
 The main features of the place are just as they 
 were eight years ago; and of course all now is fresh, 
 clean, and quiet. Several new buildings, many new 
 cottages, general, gradual improvement; every token of 
 settled prosperity M. 
 
 Chautauqua, N. F., July 5, igoo 
 It is sizzHng, boiling, roasting, frying weather here — night 
 and day; and I have no balcony to sleep on, as I had eight 
 years ago. I do think Chautauqua hot weather is the hottest 
 variety of hot weather I ever encountered. 
 
 However, I am surviving, and shall be off to-morrow for 
 Wisconsin. ... I have definite news that my last lecture 
 there will be August 9, 5-6 p. m. If possible I shall leave for the 
 East the same night. If C. K. Adams indicates that he really 
 desires to have me stop at Battle Creek to see him, I shall 
 probably shape my journey to go that way, and shall thus 
 be a day late in reaching New York. In any case, I can 
 get there by Sunday, August 12. So we may count on 
 getting to the seaside by the thirteenth of August. I 
 suppose I shall write definitely soon as to the exact day of 
 my arrival in New York. 
 
 Phew! — how I am perspiring. M. 
 
 22 Mandota Court, Madison, Wis., July 8, igoo 
 Here I am at my own writing table, in my own snug bedroom, 
 looking out on the expanse of this pretty lake — Lake Mandota, 
 in short. 
 
 Things have taken place since I last wrote very nearly accord- 
 ing to programme. When I left Chautauqua last Friday, 
 wasn't it hot? Oh, Jerusalem! wasn't it? At Lakewood I 
 got into the Pullman which took me to Chicago; but what a 
 night! Ye images of Tophet, Gehenna, and the seven-times- 
 heated furnace of the Prophet! Reached Madison at 12:55 
 
322 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 and not being met by any kind friend, made my way to this 
 abode, where my welcome was altogether hearty. My room 
 is a comer one and faces the lake and is as cool and pleasant 
 as the thermometer allows. 
 
 Naturally, I have not yet rested from the night 
 journey, but shall be quite right to-morrow. I have had 
 a nice call from Professor Turner this morning and 
 have got a better idea of things as to my part in them. 
 Altogether, my impression of Madison and its people is 
 most agreeable. 
 
 Please let me know in your next whether you have a definite 
 understanding with Miss Vail as to our being there earlier than 
 the former date. If I can reach New York by Saturday morning, 
 what is to hinder us from taking the boat by Saturday evening, 
 and reaching Block Island Sunday morning? However, if 
 I stop at Battle Creek to call on C. K. Adams I may not reach 
 New York quite soon enough for that. Shall know more soon. 
 Meantime, let your consciousness hover over the dates, 11-12. 
 Here I break off with dearest love to the wife and 
 children. M. 
 
 Madison J July 11, igoo 
 ... I cannot write more now than to say that I have got 
 well started here and expect to pull through safely. I have so 
 far very large audiences for a summer session — nearly three 
 hundred; but, of course, this number will soon shrink. The 
 room is large; the hour is five in the afternoon; and the exertion 
 fatigues me very much so far. 
 
 I have not yet got into habits of exercise, and the weather 
 has been very hot. The place is a thing of beauty; the people 
 are highly cultivated and cordial, and I am having a lot of 
 calls — to return. No more summer schools for me, if you 
 please. 
 
 Lovingly, M. C. Tyler. 
 
 , Madison, July 12, igoo 
 
 • Your letter of Tuesday has just come and gladdens my 
 heart. I am feeling much better. Yesterday morning I took 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 323 
 
 a run of nine miles on the bicycle and a long rest in the 
 afternoon; so that, with that and a sip of tea at about half-past 
 four, I felt quite fresh for my lecture at five and was not so weary 
 afterward. This plan I shall pursue hereafter; and hope to 
 keep from getting fagged out. 
 
 On Saturday morning quite a crowd of us are going to form 
 a bicycle cavalcade and take a run of fifteen or twenty miles. 
 The roads here are far better for it than with us, and the country 
 is very beautiful. 
 
 I am glad to know that you have definitely decided to leave 
 on August I and go to New Haven. ... I really am kept 
 very busy here, and have to study my lectures a good deal. 
 Must knock off now and go to work. Teine. 
 
 Madison, July 15, igoo 
 . . . Last night I dreamed that you were calling loudly 
 for me to help you somewhere outside of this house, and, spring- 
 ing up suddenly and rushing to the window, I must have shouted 
 out very loudly in reply, before I woke myself up — whereupon 
 I returned meekly to bed. I wonder if you had the nightmare 
 at about that time and the fact was revealed to me by telepathy. 
 I am very tired to-day, and since my lecture this afternoon 
 feel almost gone. However, the weather may partly account for 
 it, yet I am a very tired man, no doubt. ... M. 
 
 Madison, Saturday evening, July 14 
 ... No lecture to-day, and though I had a sixteen-mile 
 spin this morning, I have had a long rest and, not having 
 wearied myself by lecturing, am feeling less fatigue than 
 yesterday. ... 
 
 I observe your amusement at my planning to get out of Madi- 
 son immediately after my arrival. Well, that represents the 
 way I really feel; for I long to be at rest by the sea. I shall 
 not stop over at Battle Creek imless C. K. Adams should make 
 a very urgent request for me to do so, and that is now not likely 
 — for he is soon to leave for Mackinac. He is said to be 
 much better. 
 With heaps of love to you all, Your Old Man. 
 
324 MOSES COIT TYLER 
 
 LAST LETTER FROM MOSES COIT TYLER TO HIS WIFE 
 
 Madison, August 7, igoo 
 It seems strange to read in your letter of Sunday that the 
 weather was cold. Here we have been gasping in a hot wave 
 which seems endless. Probably the thing has reached you also 
 by this time, and of course you will enjoy it. I am taking 
 it as quietly as possible, and I am getting all my arrange- 
 ments made in advance for my departure day after to-morrow 
 night. Is it possible? Only two more lectures after 
 to-day. Laus Deo. 
 
 I am sorry that you have had an attack of your former enemy 
 — the rheumatism — and hope you have by this time routed 
 him — yea, hip and thigh. ... I expect that this will 
 be my last letter from Madison. ... If anything delays me 
 seriously, I will telegraph if I can do so. 
 
 Oh, how this Madison business has bored me! Never again 
 in such a scrape, I rather think. 
 
 Lovingly, Moses. 
 
 [During the night of Friday, December 28th, of this year, 
 1900, my father left this earth life, and on the following Sunday, 
 at Sage Chapel, at three o'clock, his funeral, preceded by simple 
 ceremonies at home, took place; and his body, escorted by his 
 family and a few friends, was carried to that lot to which he had 
 so often alluded in his diary, and which he had thoughtfully pre- 
 pared for his final resting place. 
 
 The disease of which my father died was a cystitis, which was 
 the result of an enlarged prostate. At the end he was ready to 
 go. During the last few years he had talked often of dying 
 and was almost superstitious that he would die at the same age 
 that his father had. 
 
 A short time before his death he had written to his only sur- 
 viving sister:] 
 
MOSES COIT TYLER 325 
 
 "Much of the things I have toiled for in life now 
 appear to me, as I approach the period of old age, 
 to be mere froth and scum, and I am satisfied that to 
 give one's life utterly to the good of others, in the ways 
 pointed out by the Christian Church, is touching the reality 
 of blessedness in living." 
 
 THE END 
 
 COUNTRY LIFE PRESS. GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Adams, C. K., 210, 249, 250, 251, 253, 
 264. 
 
 Letter from, 295. 
 Alcott, Louisa M,, 31. 
 
 Letter from, 31-33. 
 All Souls' College, Oxford, 183 
 American Plutarch, 254, 295, 312. 
 American politics, 142. 
 Ames, Mary Clemmer, 49. 
 Andover Seminary, 8, 9, 10. 
 Anti-Christian, Desire to meet an, 91. 
 Apgar, E. A., Life of, 204. 
 Arlington Place, Washington, 61. 
 Arndt, Wilhelm, 237. 
 Arnold, Matthew, 144. 
 
 Culture and Anarchy, 105. 
 Assassination, Danger of, 71-73. 
 Aubrey House, London, 27. 
 Austen, Jessica Tyler, Letter to, 315. 
 
 B 
 
 Balfour, Clara Lucas, 25-26. 
 Bancroft, George, 88, 89, 131, 259. 
 
 Letter from, 209. 
 
 Portrait of, 210 
 Bay View, Mich., Lectures at, 287. 
 Bayly, Mrs. Mary, 25. 
 Beecher, H. W., 21, 24, 49, 75, ^t, 81, 
 85,87. 
 
 Plans for Christian union, 78. 
 
 Tribune defence of, 84. 
 Beecher, Thomas K., 7. 
 Berlin, Germany, Life in, 224. 
 Bible not a revelation on science, 90. 
 Biedermann, Karl, 227. 
 Bismarck, Prince von, 240. 
 Boston, Mass., 16. 
 Birth, 3. 
 
 Block Island, R. I., 284. 
 Boulogne-sur-Mer, France, 184. 
 Brawnville papers, 35. 
 Braunschweig, Germany, 217. 
 
 Bright, John, 213. 
 
 British Museum Library, 158. 
 
 Brooklyn Union, 46. 
 
 Writing for, 49. 
 Brooks, Phillips, ill. 
 Brougham, Henry, 54, 213. 
 Brown-Sequard, Dr., 24. 
 Bryant, W. C, 81, 82, 83. 
 Buckle, Thomas, 67. 
 Bull Run, Battle of, 13. 
 Burdett-Coutts, Baroness, 136. 
 Burke, Edmund, 45. 
 Burns, Robert, 184. 
 Burnside, A. E., 15, 16. 
 Burr, G. L., 269. 
 
 Cable, G. W., Letter from, 291. 
 Cahill, Edward, Letter from, 71. 
 Cambridge, Eng., 145-148. 
 Canada, Visit to, 306-310. 
 Carbondale, Pa., Lecture at, 78. 
 Chambre des deputes, 164-166. 
 Chamouni, France, 173. 
 Channing, W. E., 15, 
 Chautauqua, N. Y., 320, 321. 
 
 Lectures at, 320. 
 Christian union. Editor of, 77. 
 
 Severs connection with, 86. 
 Clark, T. M., Bishop of R. L, 192. 
 Cleveland, Grover, Campaign of, 
 
 195-197- 
 
 Letter from, 267. 
 Coleridge, S. T., 33. 
 Colfax, Schuyler, 50, 52, 55-63, 74. 
 Columbia University, Professorship at, 
 118, 120, 121, 122, 127, 128, 129. 
 Constantia, N. Y., 5. 
 Conway, M. D., 27. 
 Cornell University, 36. 
 
 Professor at, 79, 118. 
 
 Presidency, 11 2-1 14, 117. 
 
 Work at, 179-180, 193. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Corson, Hiram, 133. 
 
 Coutts, Baroness Burdett, See Bur- 
 
 dett-Coutts. 
 Coventry, Eng., 149, 150. 
 Coxe, A. C, Bishop of N. Y., 177. 
 Creed, Religious, N. Y. tribune on, 
 
 128. 
 
 Death, 3, 324. 
 Degrees, Honorary, 89, 180. 
 Delitsch, Friedrich, 237. 
 Detroit, Mich., 5. 
 Diaries, 40-41, 125. 
 Dickens, Charles, 32. 
 Dieppe, France, 160. 
 Doane, Bishop, 259. 
 Douglass, Frederick, 19. 
 Dowden, Edward, 247. 
 
 Letter from, 299, 304. 
 Dwight, Timothy, 257. 
 
 Early life, 3, 
 
 Editorial work, Dislike for, 84, 
 Edwards, Amelia B., 256. 
 Ely, Eng., 148. 
 Emerson, R. W., 17-18. 
 England, Sails for, 23. 
 Impressions of, 159. 
 Evening post, offer of editorship, 84, 
 
 Faith in God, 119, 121, 122, 124. 
 Fisher, Kuno, 244. 
 Frederick, Harold, 246. 
 Fredericksburg, 15. 
 Freeman, E. A., 123, 126. 
 Freneau, Philip, 199. 
 Froude, J. A., 143. 
 
 Gambetta, L. M, 165-166. 
 
 Garrison, Wm. L., 18, 19. 
 
 General Theological Seminary, Lec- 
 tures at, 199. 
 
 Geneva, Switzerland, 173. 
 
 German language, Study of, 210, 211, 
 219. 
 
 German women, 223. 
 
 Germany, Life in, 214-245. 
 
 Gladden Washington, Letter from, 1 1. 
 
 Gladstone, W. E., 27, 137. 
 
 Letter from, 299. 
 Glimpses of England, 305, 311. 
 Goethe's Faust, 105 
 Gosse, Edmund, Letter from, 302, 305, 
 Graduation from Yale, 8. 
 Grand Pre, 292. 
 Grant, U. S., 51, 54, 57-63, 79. 
 Greeley, Horace, 80. 
 Greene, Dorcas, Letter to, 7. 
 Greene, Edward, Letter to, 1 1. 
 Greene, James, 75. 
 
 H 
 
 Halifax, N. S., 293. 
 
 Halle University, 232. 
 
 Hanover, Germany, 215. 
 
 Harris, S. S., Bishop of Mich., 220, 
 
 224. 
 Hart, A. B., 319. Letter from, 289. 
 Harte, Bret, 80. 
 Hasse, Ernst, 236. 
 Hayne, Paul, Letter to, 92. 
 Hillcroft, Study at, 96. 
 Historical novel. Plans for, 217, 237, 
 
 248, 265, 297. 
 History of Amer. literature, 94, 95, 
 
 97-99, loi, 102. 
 History of the U. S., 64, 75. 
 Hoge, M. D., 260. 
 Holyoake, G. J., 27. 
 House of Commons, 137, 138, 139. 
 Howells, W. D., Letter from, 290. 
 Huffcut, E. W., Letter from, 290, 305. 
 Hughes, C. E., 310. 
 Hughes, Thomas, 27. 
 Hugo, Victor, 167-169. 
 Huntington, F. E., Bishop of N. Y., 
 
 123. 
 Illness, 14. 
 
 Independent, Writing for, 23, 48, 49. 
 Italy, Taxes in, 315-317. 
 Ivison, Henry, 31. 
 
 James, Henry, 277. 
 Johnston, Gen. J. E., 
 Journalism, 46. 
 Judd, N. B., 51. 
 
 62. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Lafayette College, Easton, Pa., 268. 
 Law, Study of, 42, 47, 48. 
 Leamington, Eng., 150-15 1. 
 Lecky, W. H., Letter from, 300. 
 Lee, Gen. R. E., Surrender of, 60-61. 
 Leipzig, Germany, 225-243. 
 Lewis, Dio, 14, 15, 20. 
 
 Letter to, 91. 
 Lincoln, Abraham, 51. 
 Literary History of the American 
 
 revolution, 106, 107, 249, 266, 288, 
 
 289, 290, 291, 294, 295, 300, 302, 
 
 304, 318. 
 London, Eng., Impressions of, 23, 31, 
 
 136, 159, 245. 
 Lounsbury, T. R., 126, 257. 
 Lowell, J. R., 49, 139, 140-143. 
 Lowell lectures, 115, 116. 
 Luthardt, C. E., 226. 
 Lutheran Church service, 222. 
 Luxembourg, Palais de, 166, 167. 
 
 M 
 Macauley, T. B., 26. 
 McCarthy, J. H., 141, 143. 
 McClellan, Gen. G. B., 22. 
 McMaster, J. B., 276. 
 Madison, Wis., 321-324. 
 Marriage, 11. 
 Maurenbrecher, Wilhelm, 227, 229, 
 
 239-241. 
 Mecklenburg declaration, 83. 
 Michigan University, 6. Professor 
 
 at, 23, 35, 37, 85. 
 Middletown, Conn., Lecture at, 
 
 190. 
 Modoc Indians, 80. 
 Moody, D. L., 253. 
 Morley, Henry, 138. 
 Letter from, 103. 
 Morley's Manual of English literature, 
 86. 
 First sketch of English literature, 
 
 103. 
 Review of, 105. 
 Motley, J. L., 79. 
 Moulton, Frank, 93. 
 Moxon, Philip, 275. 
 Miiller, Max, 181-182. 
 Mulford, Elisha, 68-69. 
 
 N 
 N. Y. City, Life in, 188, 190, 198, 202. 
 N. Y. State University convocation, 
 
 180. 
 N. Y. tribune. Letter to, 303. 
 Novel, Historical, plans for, 217, 237, 
 
 248, 265, 297. 
 
 Olmsted, F. L., 80. 
 Ordination, 121, 177-178. 
 Overbeck, J. A., 229, 230, 231. 
 Owego, N. Y., 13. 
 Oxford, Eng., 144, 182-183. 
 
 Palmer, Roundel, 213. 
 
 Parentage, 3. 
 
 Paris, France, Impressions of, 161-169, 
 
 185. 
 Parker, Theodore, 21. 
 Parkman, Francis, 82. 
 Parliament, English. See House of 
 
 Commons. 
 Pattee, F. L., Letter from, 300. 
 Patterson, Mrs. Mark, 182. 
 Patrick Henry, 177, 204, 205-207, 209. 
 Peabody, Miss E. P., 15, 17-18. 
 Peabody Institute lectures, 127, 176. 
 Peterboro, Eng., 149. 
 Phillips, Wendell, 18, 19, 20-21. 
 Poe, E. A., 49. 
 Politicians, Partisan, 64. 
 Politics, lo8, 109, no. 
 Porter, Noah, 258. 
 Poughkeepsie, N. Y., 13. 
 
 Pastorate at, 14. 
 Preaching, Love for, 115, 116, 175, 
 
 178, 187, 263. 
 Providence, R. I., Lecture at, 192. 
 Putnam, G. H., Letter to, 94, 95, 100. 
 Putnam's Sons, G. P., Letter to, 97. 
 
 Quebec, Canada, 307-309. 
 
 Reading, Object of, 65. 
 Remenyi, Edouard, 108. 
 Richardson, Abby Sage, 49. 
 
VI 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Rigi, Switzerland, 169-171. 
 Ripley, George, 88-89. 
 Russell, John, 311, 312. 
 
 Saguenay, Canada, 309. 
 
 St. Margaret's Church, London, 136. 
 
 Saxony, King of, 232. 
 
 Schurman, J. G., 245. 
 
 Schurz, Carl, 53, 64. 
 
 Self estimate, 38, 42, 43, 234, 263, 325. 
 
 Senate, French, 167. 
 
 Shakespeare, Wm., 152-153, 156-157. 
 
 Simpson, Bishop, 179. 
 
 Smith, Goldwin, 179, 212, 259. 
 
 Springer, A. H., 236. 
 
 Spurgeon, C. H., 24-25, 245. 
 
 Stedman, E. C, Letter from, 271. 
 
 Stephen, Leslie, 143. 
 
 Stoddard, C. W., Letter from, 35. 
 
 Stratford-on-Avon, 151-153, 156-157. 
 
 Straus, Oscar, Letter from, 280. 
 
 Study at Hillcroft, 96. 
 
 Sumner, Charles, 50, 52, 53, 54, 64. 
 
 Letter from, 48, 
 Sumner, W. G., 256. 
 Survey of American literature, 95 , 97- 
 
 99. 
 Swinburne, A. C, 250. 
 
 Taylor, Bayard, 83. 
 Teaching, 194, 195. 
 Three men of letters, 278, 280, 281, 
 
 285, 286. 
 Tilton, Theodore, 37, 49, 70, 84, 86, 87. 
 
 Letter from, 46, 285, 317. 
 
 Letter to, 92. 
 Trumbull papers, 119. 
 Tyler, Abraham, 3. 
 Tyler, Charles, 5. 
 Tyler, Edward, Letter to, 11. 
 Tyler, Elisha, 3, 4, 5. Death of, 8. 
 Tyler, James, 3. 
 Tyler, Jeannette Gilbert, 10, 11. 
 
 Letter to, 15, 16, 17-22, 30, 31, 34- 
 
 36, 181-185, 282-284, 286, 291- 
 293 > 297, 298, 318-324. 
 
 Tyler, Job, 3. 
 
 Tyler, John, 5, 13, 248. Letter to, 
 
 37, 48, 72, 73, 89, 99, 109, III, 
 
 113, 115, 120, 122, 127, 197, 218. 
 Tyler, John, President, 3. 
 Tyler, Mary Greene, Letter to, 9, 
 
 223, 248. 
 Tyler, Nathaniel, 3. 
 Tyler, Olive, 5. 
 Tyler, Rowland, 5. 
 
 U 
 
 Union City, Mich., 5. 
 
 University College, London, 138. 
 
 University of Michigan. See Michi- 
 gan University. 
 
 University of Wisconsin. See Wis- 
 consin University. 
 
 V 
 Vassar College, 14, 15. 
 Ver, Mme., 26-27. 
 
 W 
 
 Wachsmuth, Kurt, 225. 
 Wales, Lectures in, 28-30. 
 Walkowsky, Prince, 275 
 Warwick Castle, 154-156. 
 Warwickshire, Eng., 150-151. 
 Washington, D. C, Visit to, 50. 
 Webster, Daniel, 128. 
 Weimar,Germany, 242. 
 Welles, Gideon, 54. 
 Wells, D. A., 79. 
 
 Welsh immigrants to America, 30. 
 Westminster Abbey, 159. 
 Wheeler, A. M., Letter from, 289. 
 White, Andrew Dickson, 8, 36, 79. 
 
 Letter from 112, 118, 281, 311. 
 White, Richard Grant, 37. 
 Wilhelm II, Kaiser, 240. 
 Wilkinson, W. C, Letter from, 285, 
 
 294, 302. 
 Williams, John, Bishop of Connecticut, 
 
 190-192. 
 Winsor, Mrs. Justin, 320. 
 Windscheid, Bernhard, 226. 
 Wisconsin University, Lectures at, 
 
 321. 
 Wittenburg, Germany, 225. 
 Wolfenbiittel, Germany, 216, 217. 
 WoUstonecraft, Mary, 108. 
 Woman suffrage, 51. 
 Arguments for, 67-70. 
 
INDEX vii 
 
 Wooster University, Lecture at, 89. Y 
 
 Work, Literary, 15, 38-40, 42-45, 47, Yale Theological School, 8. 
 
 64-67, 71, 185, 186, 208, 210, 212, Yale University, 6, 7. 
 
 235, 248, 250, 284, 295. Graduation from, 8. 
 
 Workman, G. C, 234. Professorship at, 288. 
 Wundt, Wilhelm, 233. 
 

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