Mr. And
Mrs. Winthrop Called (I Have A Nice Sitting-Room Now), And We Are To
Drive There And Lunch With Them To-Morrow.
Mrs. Lowell also called, and
gave us the _Republican_ view of things, being a strong
Anti-Democrat; told us that the Southerners, by arguments of personal
_fear_, made the negroes vote against the Republicans, who they
would otherwise support, according to her story.
So much, if true, for
the freedom of American voters! Speaking of sea sickness when crossing
the Atlantic, she said that like (someone else) she thought she should
die the first day, and was afraid she should_n't_ the second day.
Mr. Baillie Hamilton spoke to us at luncheon to-day; he has invented a
new kind of organ, and is perfecting it here, and hopes to make it a
good commercial business in New York, and then go home and marry Lady
Evelyn Campbell. We liked him very much, and wish him all success. Mr.
Perkins called, and we all went to the Archaeological Museum, which is
an entertainment I am unworthy of, as I don't understand Art, china, or
lace, or embroidery, or statuary, and only know what I _like_; but
Mr. Perkins wasted a great deal of valuable information upon me. After
this, we all walked to the common with Mr. Hamilton; he told us that he
had worked for months in a factory at Worcester, near this, in his
_shirt sleeves_, no man knowing him, and he thinks highly of the
American workmen in these parts. They are kind and noble under their too
independent and rough exterior, and that is my own impression; but still
I detest the system which has taught them that respect and politeness
are servile and unmanly, and that domestic service is a disgrace. I had
the pleasure of receiving your letter of 15th October this morning, and
am so glad you can use your hand more. I don't think _any_ of your
letters are missing, but, _without conceit_, mine are of more
value, as those to you are my only journal, and I should forget so many
things if I had not these letters to refer to on returning home. Now I
must finish this. Mr. Hamilton is talking while I am writing, and we
shall see him at New York on the 3rd, Hotel Brunswick. You will probably
only have one more letter from America. I am better, but still rather
queer.
Letter No. 11.
_Wednesday, October 29th, Brunswick Hotel, Boston._
I sent you a letter on Monday, and I will now begin another, which may
be the last from these shores. On Tuesday, Mrs. Pickering, the wife of
the astronomer at Cambridge, called early "to be of use," but I was
engaged to lunch out with the Winthrops, so we arranged to meet to-day.
Dick went to play the organ at Advent Church, and was delighted with it,
full of ingenious mechanism. At half-past twelve Hedley and I met him at
the station, and Mr. Perkins met us, and we found Mrs. Winthrop's
carriage at Brooktines. Mr. Perkins is a very accomplished man, lived a
long time in Germany to study music, and in Italy to study Art
generally. He looks very like Mr. Henry Sidgwick, and you would never
guess he was an American. The drive through Brooklines was very pretty;
we saw three large trees of a pure gold colour on the greenest turf in
one place, which had a lovely effect. The Winthrop's house is not
furnished with aesthetic taste, but there were some good pictures. Mr.
Winthrop has been married three times, and the present wife was married
before, so there is rather a confusion of families. _Her_ daughter
only lives with them, and is affected with a sort of St. Vitus's dance,
which made it rather trying for Hedley to take her in to luncheon; but I
never saw anyone who seemed less self-conscious or more at her ease than
this poor girl, and her mother is devoted to her, and shewed us her
picture in great triumph. We had Mr. Packman, the historian of Canada,
at luncheon, and Mr. Richardson, a celebrated architect, formerly a
slave owner in the Southern States, who liberated his slaves before the
war, but was a "rebel," and lost his all, and had to work for his
living. Mr. Packman said he thought Canada was improving wonderfully,
but (as the English when we were there had told us), the French element
multiplies with extraordinary rapidity, and they are a compact body
under the control of their priests, and so carry all political questions
their own way; consequently, but little progress is made in the province
of Quebec. Mr. Packman is a Republican, but is going to vote for the
Democratic candidate, Mr. Cleveland, because he believes him to be an
honest man, and that Blaine would bring the country into difficulties. I
wish some of _our_ Republicans would come _here_ and learn a
lesson of conscientious independence! There were some ladies besides,
but I did not make out their names. At last luncheon was ready, and such
a nasty luncheon! Great oysters, and raw beef, and dried-up partridges,
and the never failing blocks of ice-cream, which _sounds_ very
nice, but one gets tired of it, especially when it makes one ill!
However, the _mental_ food was very good, and Mr. Winthrop, who
knows everyone, spoke to me of Gladstone. He thinks he "is a man of many
words; he knows something of everything, and a good deal of some
things," but on the whole he evidently does _not_ trust his
statemanship. He knew the late Lord Lytton and his wife, and met her
after their quarrel at Roger's, the poet, and thought her a very fine
clever woman, with charms of manner. Lord Lytton he thought very
unpleasant; very deaf, and sensitive about it, and would not use his
trumpet. Macaulay was very _ponderous_, and had a _Niagara_
flow of language.
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