The life of Alice Freeman Palmer

ALICE- FREEMAN

<55eorffe J). Calmer

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A SERVICE IN MEMORY OF ALICE FREEMAN
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HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NHW YORK

ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Portrait in 1892

THE LIFE OF
ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

BY

GEORGE HERBERT PALMER

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

1908

• COPYRIGHT 1908 BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published April iqo8

NINTH IMPRESSION

CONTENTS

I. INTRODUCTION 1

II. CHILDHOOD 17

III. GIRLHOOD 31

IV. THE UNIVERSITY 44

V. SCHOOL-TEACHING 72

VI. TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 90

VII. THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 118

VIII. THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY (Continued) . 135

IX. MARRIAGE 168

X. SABBATICAL YEARS 189

XI. CAMBRIDGE 220

XII. CAMBRIDGE (Continued) 243

XIII. BOXFORD 277

XIV. DEATH 311

XV. CHARACTER 328

DATES 353

ILLUSTRATIONS

ALICE FREEMAN PALMER Frontispiece

PORTRAIT AT FIVE YEARS 26

THE SUSQUEHANNA VALLEY 32

MICHIGAN UNIVERSITY 44

WELLESLEY COLLEGE 90

ACADEMIC PORTRAIT 134

CAMBRIDGE HOUSE 220

CAMBRIDGE LIBRARY 242

BOXFORD HOUSE 282

LAST PORTRAIT . . 328

ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

When fell, to-day, the word that she had gone,

Not this my thought : Here a bright journey ends,

Here rests a soul unresting; here, at last,

Here ends that earnest strength, that generous life —

For all her life was giving. Rather this

I said (after the first swift, sorrowing pang) :

Radiant with love, and love's unending power,

Hence, on a new quest, starts an eager spirit —

No dread, no doubt, unhesitating forth

With asking eyes; pure as the bodiless souls

Whom poets vision near the central throne

Angelically ministrant to man;

So fares she forth with smiling, God ward face;

Nor should we grieve, but give eternal thanks —

Save that we mortal are, and needs must mourn.

RICHARD WATSON GILDER.

December 2, 1902.

THE LIFE OF
ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

i

INTRODUCTION

THREE reasons impel me to write this book, affec-
tion first of all. Mrs. Palmer was my wife, deeply
beloved and honored. Whatever perpetuates that
honor brings me peace. To leave the dead wholly
dead is rude. Vivid creature that she was, she must
not lie forgotten. Something of her may surely be
saved if only I have skill. Perhaps my grateful pen
may bring to others a portion of the bounty I my-
self received.

A second and more obvious summons comes from
the fact that in herself and apart from me Mrs.
Palmer was a notable person. Somebody therefore
may be tempted to write her life if I do not ; for her
friends were numbered by the ten thousand. At
her death I received nearly two thousand letters
from statesmen, schoolgirls, clerks, lawyers, teachers,
country wives, outcasts, millionaires, ministers, men

2 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

of letters, — a heterogeneous and to me largely an
unknown company, but alike in feeling the marvel
of her personality and the loss her death had caused
them. Few women of her time, I have come to
think, were more widely loved. And now these
persons are recalling her influence and asking for
explanation. Where lay that strange power, and how
did she obtain it? She lived no longer than most
of us. She had no early advantage of birth, physical
vigor, or station. Half her years were passed in com-
parative poverty. During only nine did she hold
positions which could be called conspicuous. She
wrote little. In no field of scholarship was she emi-
nent. Her tastes were domestic, her voice gentle,
her disposition feminine and self-effacing. Yet by
personal power rather than by favoring circumstance
this woman sent out an influence from the Atlantic
to the Pacific, an influence unique in kind and puz-
zling those on whom it fell. In her appearance there
was nothing enigmatic. Altogether simple she seemed,
approachable, playful even, interested in common
things, in common people, with no air of profundity,
and small inclination to remake after her own pat-
tern the characters of those who came near ; but any
one on whom she turned her great eyes went out
from her presence renewed. Hope revived, one's
special powers were heightened ; the wise, the exalted
course became suddenly easy; while toil and diffi-

INTRODUCTION 3

cujties began to spice the life they had previously
soured. In all this there was something mysterious
which I am solicited to explain.

I cannot explain it. Probably genius is never
explicable. The more nearly it is examined, the more
intricately marvelous it appears. Fifteen years of
closest companionship with Mrs. Palmer did not dis-
close to me the pulse of that curious machine. She
always remained a surprise. Yet I never tired of
studying her; for though we seldom can fully com-
prehend a person, in studying one who is great we
can push analysis farther than elsewhere and with
larger entertainment and profit ; we discover a multi-
tude of ingredients unsuspected at first; and, most
interesting of all, we come upon strange modes of
turning trivial things to power and of gaily discard-
ing what men usually count important. And even
when at last we arrive at what defies analysis, being
the very individuality itself, its beautiful mystery still
lures us on and — like Keats's Grecian Urn — en-
largingly " teases us out of thought."

Accordingly, in response to many requests, I mean
to make the second object of this book the study of
an attractive human problem, even though by doing
so I prove to how limited an extent the demand
for an understanding can be gratified. I certainly
shall never succeed in accounting for Mrs. Palmer's
charm ; I fear I shall not even reproduce it. In her

4 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

lifetime many artists tried to depict that haunting
and variable face, but without success. The sun
itself gave only partial and contradictory reports.
So I must fail in setting forth so elusive a being. But
this failure will restrain less familiar hands; and I
can at least set in order the chief facts of her life
and select characteristic specimens of her sayings
and writings.

And if so much is accomplished, perhaps I may
accomplish something more. In life Mrs. Palmer's
personality was an influential one. It embodied
stimulating ideals. Those who approached her, even
casually, gained power and peace. President Tucker
says, "There is no other of our generation, with the
possible exception of Phillips Brooks, who has stood
to such a degree for those qualities in which we must
all believe with unquenchable faith if we are to do
anything in this world." And President Eliot, "To
my mind this career is unmatched by that of any
other American woman. Mrs. Palmer's life and
labors are the best example thus far set before
American womanhood." If my portrait of her, then,
is correct, invigoration will go forth from it and dis-
heartened souls be cheered; for after all, her modes
of life — with suitable adaptation to alien tempera-
ments— are capable of pretty wide application.
What was peculiar in her was small. She chiefly
distinguished herself by wise ways of confronting

INTRODUCTION 5

the usual world. While, then, I try to restore her to
life for the benefit of those who did and did not know
her, I may hope that readers will find in the disclos-
ure of her methods material for their own strength
and courage.

One more aim remains, weighty, yet lying on the
surface. In some of the social movements of her
time Mrs. Palmer had a considerable share. During
her life education was undergoing reconstruction,
new colleges were coming into existence, fresh op-
portunities and capacities for women were being
claimed and tested. It is well to follow such move-
ments in the lives of their leaders and to understand
the situation in which those leaders found them-
selves. By sharing in their early hopes, difficulties,
and results, we comprehend better the world we in-
habit. As Mrs. Palmer was sometimes forced into
such leadership, she may be said to have a certain
historical importance.

Such, then, are the three impulses of this book, —
the insatiability of love, the general desire for por-
traiture, the rights of history. Here personal, psy-
chological, social motives mingle. Since I can no
longer talk with her, I would talk of her and get the
comfort of believing that even now without me she
may not be altogether perfect. Enjoying, too, artis-
tic criticism, psychology, ethical problems, I gladly
bring my special knowledge to bear on what many

« ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

found mysterious, pleasing myself with thinking that
in making her known to old friends and new I shall
also make them better known to themselves. And
then, retaining my belief in the public causes for
which she stood, I should like briefly to record their
history and thus encourage the next generation in
its own way to push them on. But in carrying out
these collective aims I encounter obstacles which
rigidly limit my success.

Mrs. Palmer was a person of strong temperamental
reserve. One did not at first suspect it. She seemed
uncommonly open ; and so indeed she was — open
for going forth to others, but not for admitting them
to her. Her simple manners and generous sympathies
put every one at ease and gave each the satisfaction,
entirely well-grounded, of feeling that he was for the
moment her greatest object of regard. But when one
turned about and tried to make her the object of
regard, one did not penetrate far. Not that she had
the distrustful modesty which fears to talk of its
doings. She knew her powers, respected them, and
had a good deal of the child's way of finding herself
as interesting as did others. Nor did she, like an
aristocrat, seek to screen herself from the common
gaze. But a.ccustomed as she was to ministering
and not being ministered unto, the loving scrutiny
which most were eager to bestow she took, as it were,
merely in passing. Nothing was easier than a super-

INTRODUCTION 7

ficial acquaintance with her ; but friends have told me
that after an acquaintance of five years, while admir-
ing devotion steadily grew, they knew her no better
than on the first day. The springs of her conduct,
what she cared for most, her ultimate beliefs and alle-
giances, few could know — perhaps not even herself.
It is difficult to penetrate far into a nature so con-
crete and unconscious, a nature, too, which held itself
aloof from others by perpetual kindness. To depict
it I might seem obliged to adopt an objective method
and to allow the facts of the life to speak for them-
selves. But such a method would be useless; the life
was uneventful. Hers was in general a smooth
existence, in which little happened which might not
befall any of us. I have often thought that God,
Nature, Fate, or whoever the presiding power may
be, foreseeing her desire always to find her happiness
in that of others, provided her abundantly out of the
common lot and left the element of distinction to
be added by herself. It was always she who ennobled
her circumstance. The occurrences of her life were
few and unimportant, while what she drew from them
fashioned a powerful personality. On herself, then,
I must concentrate attention and try to induce my
readers to look rather through the facts than at them.
Of exciting narrative I have not much to offer. My
book will be a kind of character novel, in which
little occurs and nobody appears except the heroine.

8 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

And since I am detailing difficulties, let me say
that my material is not quite what I should wish.
I knew Mrs. Palmer during little more than A third
of her life, when the formative influences of child-
hood and early womanhood were already absorbed
into structure. My knowledge of these I piece to-
gether from what can be gathered from the few
survivors of those early years and from incidental
remarks of her own. But she was never reminiscent
or introspective, had little interest in tracing her
growth, and at any time took herself pretty much as
she found herself. I once induced her to set down
the principal dates of her life, and these notes now
furnish the trusty framework of my tale. But as I
am trying to construct an inner history rather than
an outer, such a record goes only a little way. What
I want is sayings and writings, so that my readers
may catch her quality from her own lips ; and these
I lack in the midst of peculiar abundance. Let both
that abundance and that lack reveal her character.

While she wrote no books and published only half
a dozen articles, during each of her later years she
made no less than twenty speeches. I at first thought
I might exhibit her in extracts from these and from
her letters. But each source I find to be only slenderly
available. Her addresses were never written. In-
deed, she seldom drew up memoranda of the points
to be discussed. Her rapid speech confounded the

INTRODUCTION 9

reporters, so that in only a few instances have I reports
which are anything like verbatim. Little, therefore,
of her literary output remains, except what lodged
in the minds of the hearers. There was in her a
wastefulness like that of the blossoming tree. It
sometimes disturbed me, and for it I occasionally
took her to task. "Why will you," I said, "give all
this time to speaking before uninstructed audiences,
to discussions in endless committees with people too
dull to know whether they are talking to the point,
and to anxious interviews with tired and tiresome
women ? You would exhaust yourself less in writing
books of lasting consequence. At present you are
building no monument. When you are gone people
will ask who you were, and nobody will be able to
say." But I always received the same indifferent
answer: "Well, why should they say? I am trying
to make girls wiser and happier. Books don't help
much toward that. They are entertaining enough,
but really dead things. Why should I make more of
them? It is people that count. You want to put
yourself into people ; they touch other people ; these,
others still, and so you go on working forever." I
could never stir her interest in posthumous fame nor
shake her estimate of the importance of dealing with
individual human beings. Instinctively she adopted
the idea of Jesus that if you would remould the
world, the wise way is not to write, but to devote

10 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

your fleeting years to persistent talks with a dozen
young fishermen. And that this audacious method
was effective in her small degree, as in that majestic
instance, I now daily perceive as I meet with those
who once were almost dead and were brought to
living fruitfulness by her ardent patience. Yet still
I mourn that through behaving so generously she
largely disappeared.

It might seem that her letters would save her.
They went forth by the hundred a week. They were
usually written by her own hand, were long, careful,
and highly personal, even when relating to business
affairs. In them she expressed her best qualities.
Whoever received one knew that it was a thing of
value. In these, then, would naturally be found the
material for her biography.

But the trait which I have just mentioned limits
their use. She was unceasingly and minutely per-
sonal. The individual human being was in her
world the all-important thing; and when she wrote
him, every sentence concerned just him and no one
else. This made her letters not merely unsuitable to
print, but for the general reader unintelligible and
for the most part uninteresting. She entered into her
correspondent's circumstances with such specific de-
tail as to bewilder any one who knew them less than
she and he. To explain the allusions would require
a letter longer than her own. His family ties, his

INTRODUCTION 11

business perplexities, his previous falls or rises, the
wisest steps by which he may now reach his ends, the
assurance that some one cares for his success and is
elated over his little advancements — these are the
matters of which she hourly wrote. Her eager simple
language awoke his confidence and gratitude, but a
different person would find her pages as empty as the
newspaper of a neighboring town. Rarely do her
letters contain general truths, discussions of public
questions, opinions on books or persons, rarely do
they relate to interests of her own. She has no inter-
ests which are not those of him to whom she writes.
Even her occasional descriptions, like those sent
home during her residences abroad, animated though
they are and skilful in seizing the distinctive features
of unaccustomed scenes, seem written because the
reader needs to hear rather than she to speak. The
notion of giving to somebody was a necessary factor
in all she did and said. The artist craves expression
primarily for delivering his own soul ; knowing too
that if he accomplishes this, he fixes public attention
on his product. Her abounding soul sought neither
that relief nor that approval, but found its full de-
light in relieving the souls of others.

Only once, so far as I know, did she turn to ex-
pression for her own sake. After her death I came
upon a book of verses, written by her during the last
five years of her life. She had given it the title of

12 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

"A Marriage Cycle," and in it had endeavored to
mark the successive steps through which love brings
a pair into union with each other, with nature, and
with God. Marriage she had always reverenced,
holding that only through it can either man or wo-
man reach the largest fulfilment. When, compara-
tively late in life, she came to her own, she began in
her usual fashion to bring out its inner significance
and beauty. Romance was in her case no product of
novelty, but was usually fertilized and rendered more
exuberant by the deposits of time. Accordingly, when
ten years of marriage and her own fortieth year were
passed, wonder and gratitude over her happy con-
dition became almost oppressive. From occasional
dates scattered through this book of verses I judge
she now began to snatch brief intervals from busi-
ness and employ them for recording typical situa-
tions of crisis and growth in our life together. She
had never written poetry before, though ever a stu-
dent of it. Now she wrote purely for herself, rarely
showing me anything. This book, more than any
document that has survived her, depicts her heart,
mind, courage, and character. For this reason I
cannot use it. Its poetry is too intimate to be pub-
lished during my life. Only a few pieces, expressing
chiefly religious trust, I printed in a magazine
shortly after her death. A few more, relating to coun-
try scenes, are given here in my thirteenth chapter.

INTRODUCTION 13

Such then are my resources, my difficulties, and
my aims. I move within restricted bounds. On ac-
count of an extremely individual quality, not much
of Mrs. Palmer's poetry or correspondence can be
used to illustrate her life. Still less is available of
that which made her most widely known, her public
speeches. The events of her life were not unusual,
while her personality was baffling, sheltered as it
was by instinctive reserve and too large to be easily
measured. Yet such difficulties do not block the
way; they merely define it. While rendering any-
thing like the usual "Life and Letters" impossible,
they point directly to something not less interesting,
and perhaps of equal value: to an impressionistic
portrait, a personal estimate, an evolutional study.
For in calling her life uneventful I do not mean that
it lacked interest. Every week was full of it, for her-
self and for others. To a discerning eye wealth of
incident offers no such interest as an even unfolding
brings, where event links with event, each later dis-
cjosing what was contained in germ in some earlier,
until when, in orderly sequence, something is reached
which under other circumstances might be aston-
ishing, it comes prepared for and as only a matter
of happy course. These are the truly dramatic lives,
and such was preeminently hers. We follow here
a harmoniously developed and stimulating drama,
into which little that is accidental intrudes. To say

14 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

that Mrs. Palmer was born in an obscure border
village and became the renowned president of an
eastern college at twenty-six may at first startle,
but only until acquaintance with her shows how nat-
urally this eminence and obscurity went together. In
some degree to bring about that acquaintance and to
set forth the orderly development of a noble nature
is my inviting task.

And for an undertaking thus limited the material
is not insufficient. There are my seventeen years of
acquaintance, the recollections of those who were
with her in early years, the talk of hundreds of stu-
dents, the records of colleges and societies, the en-
thusiastic affection which everywhere attended her,
and the marks of her influence still discernible in
a multitude of lives. I have already mentioned the
set of dates which she herself drew up. And then
her letters, though on the whole of small historical
value, contain precious illustrations of character.
Everywhere they bear marks of her ardor, ease, sym-
pathy, and elevation. They show, too, the growth
of her powers. I use them often, therefore, but
always with the aim of exhibiting herself, and not
events or persons. For this reason no one of them
is printed entire, no dates are affixed, nor names of
those to whom they were written. Careless of the
original text, I merely gather groups of characteris-
tic fragments, sometimes even piecing together two

INTRODUCTION 15

which happen to be marked with a similar mood of
mind.

My general plan will be to devote a single chapter
to each definable section of her career; in it to ana-
lyze the forces which were then shaping her growth,
and at its close, through these fragmentary letters
or those of friends, to give an independent report
of how she looked and spoke at the time. In this
way I believe my scanty materials will yield their
utmost. Possibly, too, the course of her develop-
ment will be followed more readily if I mark out in
it four unequal periods and give them special names.
The first we may call her Family Life, extending
up to her entering Windsor Academy in 1865; the
second, the Expansion of her Powers, up to her
graduation from Michigan University in 1876; the
third, her Service of Others, up to her marriage
in 1887; and last the Expression of Herself, up to
her death in 1902. While these periods are not ex-
clusive of one another, each is dominated by special
interests which pretty clearly distinguish it, the later
ones being hardly possible without those which go
before. But Mrs. Palmer herself was unaware of
any such divisions of her life; and if the reader
chooses to forget them or to count them pedantic, I
shall not think him disrespectful to me or to her.

In reference to one feature of my book a little
warning may be well. This is a prejudiced story.

16 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I am far from a dispassionate, or even a detached
observer of her whom I would make known. She
and I had become pretty completely one. Often my
only way of telling about her is to tell about myself.
The book, therefore, while ostensibly a biography,
claims many privileges of an autobiography, and
might properly enough be called the autobiography
of a friend. In it I must be allowed abundant ego-
tism, reminiscence, admiration, personal disclosure.
But perhaps such a compound method will not be
thought inappropriate in a portrait of one whose
constant habit it was to mingle her abounding life
with that of others.

II

CHILDHOOD

ALICE ELVIRA FREEMAN was born on the night of
February 21, 1855, at Colesville, Broome County,
New York. The influences which chiefly shaped her
childhood were her country life, her narrow means,
and her father's change of occupation. All else is
subordinate to these.

Colesville is rather a collection of farms than of
houses, Windsor, its nearest considerable village,
being seven miles away; its nearest town, Bingham-
ton, a dozen miles from Windsor. All the child's
early years were passed in a tract of smiling country,
where hills, woods, fertile fields, and the winding
stream of the Susquehanna expressed the beauty
and friendliness of nature with nothing of its savagery.
These gracious influences became a rich endowment.
Nature did for her what it did for Wordsworth's
Lucy, imparted to her its mystery, its poise, its soli-
tude, its rhythmic change, its freedom from haste
and affectation. Social being as she afterwards be-
came, her days with dumb things were fortunately
preparatory. They taught her to know the elemental
background of human existence, to respect it, to

18 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

value in herself and others the blind motions of its
unconscious wisdom, and to carry into subsequent
life and literature the senses it 'had trained. She
used to pity persons born in cities, and thought that
the country-bred were provided with securer sources
of happiness. Throughout life, when she would chase
fatigue and fear, she fled from "the great town's
harsh heart- wearying roar" and quickly renewed
herself by lying in green grass or walking by the bank
of a favorite brook in the deep woods. There she
needed no other companion than the hopping birds.
With them she was an intimate from her earliest
years, and she became in later life an expert in their
names and ways. One of her most successful ad-
dresses was on the glories of a country life; and I
remember her saying that the opening sections of
Emerson's Essay on Nature affected her as if they
were the recollections of her brooding childhood.
Her refinement had ever an earthy stock beneath it,
so that she was not easily shocked or inclined to
count common things unclean. She loved to mix
with horses. She knew the farmyard, the country
road, the breeding cattle, and the upturned soil; and
she cared for them as heartily as for college girls,
picture galleries, and companies where there are
"quick returns of courtesy and wit." When Ulysses
stepped naked from the thicket on the seashore,
Nausicaa's maidens fled, while she herself stood

CHILDHOOD 19

unalarmed to learn what he might need. Alice
Freeman's country training enabled her all her days
to behave as did the Phseacian princess.

But persons were with the child as well as natural
objects. We are all offshoots of a family. Sometimes
we speak as if each of us were a single individual,
standing solitary, existing alone; but nothing of the
sort is true. The smallest conceivable personality is
threefold, — father, mother, child. No one of us
starts as an individual or can ever after become such,
being essentially social, a member merely, a part of a
larger whole. It is therefore of extreme consequence,
if our life is to be a fortunate one, that the family of
which we are portions shall be noble and have a high
descent. That was the case with Alice Freeman;
for though on both sides, so far as I am aware, few
of her ancestors figured in the newspapers, or had
any considerable share of wealth or learning, they
were of that sturdy stock which has been the glory
of America — men and women who in quiet homes
pride themselves on duty and intelligence, who
think about each day's work and carefully accom-
plish it; people on whom neighbors can rely, and
who are willing to be overlooked in the public inter-
est. James Warren Freeman, the hard-working,
self -forgetting father, was of Scottish blood. His
mother was a Knox; her father being James Knox
of Washington's Life Guard. From her father

20 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Alice derived much of her moral beauty, and also
that gleam of red which undershot her dark hair.
Perhaps too from his side came some of her love
of adventure; for her paternal grandfather walked
from Connecticut through the wilderness and be-
came one of the first settlers of Central New York.

The mother, Elizabeth Josephine Higley — her
mother Elvira Frost — was one of five beautiful
daughters of a Colesville farmer. Their dark hair
and large eyes passed over to the child, their vivacity
too, and their forceful intellectual disposition.
Mother and grandmother had been for brief terms
teachers. The mother herself had unusual execu-
tive ability and a strong disposition to improve
social conditions around her. She interested herself
in temperance, and in legislation for the better pro-
tection of women arid children. In later years, af-
ter a long illness had led her to reflect on the lack
of medical provision for women, she raised by her
own efforts, though far from rich herself, sufficient
money to build and equip an extensive hospital
for women in her city of Saginaw. Both father
and mother were of large physical frame, tough
in fibre, and capable of enduring constant toil.
But on the mother's side there was a tendency to
consumption.

When Alice was born, her mother was but seven^
teen and a half years old. "I grew up with my

CHILDHOOD 21

mother," she used to say. In the next five years came
a boy and two girls. Neither Mrs. Freeman nor her
husband had inherited property, and the conditions
of farming in a young country are severe. I remem-
ber Alice's speaking of the rarity of fresh meat in
her childhood, and of associations of luxury with a
keg of salt mackerel. On these isolated farms no
servants were kept, nor were means of communica-
tion easy. Newspapers, letters, and books were rare.
The family itself was the community. Comforts
were little thought of. He was lucky who could
command the necessities.

It is now acknowledged that the most question-
able advantage of large wealth is its influence on
children. Those who acquire it are likely enough
to grow with its pursuit, and the control over the
world which it brings to its vigorous accumulator is
not unfavorable to enjoyment or to still further ad-
vance. But children who have never known want
get few deep draughts of joy. Whoever prizes human
conditions in proportion to their tendency to develop
powers must commiserate the children of the rich
and think of them as our unfortunate classes. They
associate less with their parents than do others ; their
goings and comings are more hampered; they are
not so easily habituated to regular tasks; they are
pressed less to experiment, foresee, adapt ; they have
less stimulus to energetic excellence, and when

22 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

tempted to vice or mediocrity they have little counter-
compulsion to support their better purpose. Wise
rich parents know these dangers and give their
most anxious thought to shielding their children
from the enervating influence of wealth.

At the opposite extreme, poverty is for certain
children, and at certain ages, tonic in its effect. It
may be too severe and become blighting. Middle
conditions are for the average undoubtedly safest.
At the time of turning from childhood to youth there
appears in the normal child a craving for the expan-
sion of personal tastes. If this cannot in some measure
be gratified, damage results. The child is stunted.
At an earlier age the importance of money is less
clear. The child's nature determines whether nar-
row means are to be a blessing or a curse. A gentle
child, slow, unobservant, unrornantic, little disposed
to projecting itself into things, is in danger of being
crushed by a bleak environment, or at least of hav-
ing its undesirable qualities confirmed. It grows up
dull, coarse, or bitter. But little children of a more
aggressive type are nourished by poverty and in it
are often afforded their best opportunity for early
expansion.

So it was with small Alice Freeman. She found a
careful home fortunate, or possibly made it so; for
in her case the distinction between finding and mak-
ing was seldom quite clear. She has often assured

CHILDHOOD 23

me of the happiness of her childhood ; and one can
see how to so rich a nature — alert, forceful, and
creative — the exactitudes of a restricted existence
might not be unfriendly. In that environment the
fourfold germs of the moral sense very early gathered
their proper warmth, and grew delightedly toward
God, and toward her superiors, inferiors, and equals.
In this home God was reverenced and man con-
tent. Both parents were profoundly religious, the
father an elder of the Presbyterian church. Whatever
came therefore, gentle or severe, was felt to come
with kindness and to bring its call to cheerful and
considered acceptance. In such serious circumstances
the words of the Bible, of the Pilgrim's Progress, of
the great hymns, penetrate the soul with a depth of
meaning incredible to those who read them carelessly
or in the intervals of other exciting volumes. Re-
ligion roots best in isolation. "Be still, and know
that I am God," says the Psalmist. In the silence
of the country a child can hear God's voice. Then
too, whatever the hardships were or however severe,
they were shared; and difficulties met together
strengthened the dearest of human ties. To her
young mother Alice soon became rather a sister than
a child, a peculiar relation maintained through life,
and more natural at that time because there was
usually in the house an aunt or two of about her
own years.

24 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Where too there was so little money and so much
to do, the smallest took part in the universal work;
no burdensome part, but one which, though a kind
of play, contributed to the common gain. Sociologists
say that the sports of animals and children are edu-
cative, really performances in miniature and for pure
pleasure, of the employments of later life. This
buoyant child found participation in the daily toil
such an anticipatory sport, and almost from infancy
helpfulness grew habitual. About as soon as she
could walk she was employed to call her father from
the field, to assist her mother with the dishes and the
beds, and to gather eggs from the barn. When she
was five, she had three younger children to attend,
henceforth her daily charge. She dressed them,
brushed their hair, took them to school, and per-
formed all those offices of the little mother which
fall upon the eldest girl in a household of slender
means. These are the kindergartens of the country,
admirable training schools for such small persons
as can meet their requirements. At an age when
children of the well-to-do are hardly out of their
nurses' arms Alice Freeman was already well started
in heartfelt dependence on the Eternal, in the cheer-
ful performance of regular work, in lightening the
labor of those above her, and in accepting respon-
sibility for those below. Any one can see how these
early habits prepared her for future power.

CHILDHOOD 25

Intellectually her case seems less favorable. A
district school, of the disordered and elementary
sort usual in a sparsely settled country, was the only
one accessible. Its teacher was paid two dollars a
week and " boarded round." To it Alice went when
she was four. But already at three she had taught
herself to read, and her beautiful voice was always
afterwards much in request for reading aloud —
excellent preparation for subsequent public speaking.
Though books were few, they were read many times,
about the only mode of reading which yields profit
to the young. Favorite poems were * committed to
memory. Alice's first public appearance, occasioned
by one of these, amusingly illustrates her instinct-
ive identification of herself with those around.

When five years old she was taken to a village
gathering, where the entertainment chiefly consisted of
music and speeches. While these incomprehensible
matters were in progress she was allowed to fall
asleep, but at the appropriate moment was waked,
stood on a table, and told to repeat her poem. It
was one she was fond of, and she spoke it with the
same fervor as if she were alone. The delighted
audience broke into applause. But their feelings at
once became hers too, and she clapped her little
hands as heartily as did any of her hearers. Her
parents from the beginning knew her to be a golden
child and gave much care to her mental growth.

26 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

To it the country also brought its precious contribu-
tions. The natural thoughts of a child, the poet says,
" are long, long thoughts." Thoughts of these dimen-
sions come most easily in the country. A daguerreo-
type of her, taken when she was five and published
here, shows that she already has them.

Then too while country life, especially in the early
years, benumbs the intellect that is merely scholastic,
it calls into perpetual activity the practical intellect
in those fortunate enough to possess it. In the coun-
try, when one needs anything, he cannot step into a
neighboring store and purchase for his use what has
been provided by the forethought of others. He is
dependent on himself. He must find, invent, or go
without his article ; either master nature or be mas-
tered by her. It is true that in the long run the
majority of country people are mastered and tamely
submit to daily inconvenience. Nevertheless it is a
great advantage to a vigorous young person, destined
for future affairs, to be brought up where there is
little division of labor, where therefore ready wits
and practical good sense are at a constant premium.
On the whole we must count Alice Freeman fortu-
nate in those early circumstances which shaped her
originally strong intelligence and fitted it for diverse
and ready action.

But there is one danger which besets so restricted
a household. However intelligent, industrious, or

Portrait at Jive years

CHILDHOOD 27

brave, it tends to routine and to resting satisfied with
the supply of daily needs. Ideals die under too great
pressure. But that was not the case here; for hers
were ambitious parents, ambitious for attaining
wider work through self -improvement. The father
was a man of unusual kindness, much disposed to
look after those about him. By degrees the idea of
becoming a physician took strong hold of him. It
was encouraged by his wife, who offered to maintain
herself and the four children during the two years*
absence necessary for his training at the Albany
Medical School. And this was actually accomplished
between Alice's seventh and ninth years. Where
means were found for maintaining father and family
during the audacious interval I have never been able
to discover. Of course the cares of the household
were doubled, yet in so splendid a cause as to fix
forever in the mind of one of them the wisdom of
sacrificing present comforts to ideal ends. Alice
Freeman never forgot those glorious years. They
were among the few events of her childhood to which
she often referred; for they set a pattern to which
she was ever after eager to conform, of noble aims,
willing suffering, resourcefulness, persistence, and
ultimate arrival at greater ability to serve.

When Dr. Freeman returned, equipped for pro-
fessional work, a change of residence became ad-
visable. The farm was abandoned and a house was

28 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

taken in the village of Windsor. Practice came
quickly to one who was as truly a physician of the
mind and soul as of the body. Soon it extended over
miles of the surrounding country. In his long rides
among his scattered patients a little girl accom-
panied her father. To drive was exhilarating; she
talked to him on the road ; she held the horse during
his visit ; and when he came forth grave from the bed-
side, she shared his anxieties over the dangerous
case. So the intimacy between the pair grew strong.
Among her papers written in later life I find a pas-
sage evidently suggested by these early years in
which she uses their happy memories to interpret
similar experiences in the life of a friend who had
died. Of this friend she writes : —

"She was fortunate in being bred in the country,
responsive to its birds and flowers, to the stars above
her head and the stones under her feet, and to the
simplicity of its quiet pleasures. A country doctor's
granddaughter, she came close in childhood to his
good and high influence, close to sickness, to sorrow,
to hardship, and to loss. In sympathetic relations
with him she learned to love humankind in all de-
grees of trouble and poverty, as well as to rejoice in
natural beauty. She has told me of that village home
and her village friends. We who knew her used often
to say, even down to these last years, 'You have a
girl's heart and a country girl's loves and enthusi-

CHILDHOOD 29

asms.' It made no difference that she went forth
into high public station. She brought back from the
drawing-rooms of Washington and the salons of
Paris the highmindedness, the human affections, and
the swift sympathies which her grandfather gave her
through long contact with sorrow and heart-break."
It would be hard to describe more exactly what
Alice Freeman derived from her father, and per-
haps it may be well to show here the permanence of
that influence, and the sort of passionate devotion it
fixed in her for the silent man who gave it. I quote
some lines which she wrote the year before she died.
Dr. Freeman had been struck down by a violent
illness which seemed likely to bring sudden death.
She was summoned from Cambridge by telegraph.
As she rode she wrote the following verses, showing
them to no one. After her death I found them among
her papers, marked " On the Train, April 12, 1902."
The reference in the fifth stanza is to her sister
Stella, who had died twenty-three years before.

How long and weary stretch the miles away
Between us, O my father, as I come

To catch again your dear voice, if I may,
Here in our earthly home.

Perhaps ere this your lips are cold and still;
Perhaps you hear the angels' triumph song,

30 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

And smile upon us from some heavenly hill
The blessed saints among.

They are not sick or sorry any more;

And you are strong and young and glad again.
What will you do on that wide shining shore

Where all are free from pain ?

All your long life you healed the sick and sad;

You gave as God gives, counting not the cost.
Your presence made the little children glad ;

With you no soul was lost.

How many happy ones will greet you there
About our starlike girl, so long away!

Ah, but to see her shining eyes and hair
As on that sad June day!

I will not grieve, my father, for your peace.

I will rejoice if you have won your rest
Where Springs fade not, where sorrows ever cease,

And all the good are blest.

m

GIRLHOOD

THE settlement at Windsor marks a second period
in Alice Freeman's life. By degrees she turns from
childhood to girlhood. What the nature of the change
is, or at what precise time it occurs, is seldom evident
either to onlookers or to the child herself. But the
transition, though gradual, is momentous and not
altogether pleasing. In Alice Freeman I judge it
appeared about two years earlier than ordinary.

Girlhood begins when little by little the child
comes to think for herself and to regard herself as
a person of importance. She accordingly seeks to
assert and enlarge that importance. Earlier than this
she has hardly had possession of her powers. By
herself and others she has been accounted merely a
member of a family. Few articles are called hers.
Her wishes are not much regarded. She is included
in family plans, but has too little experience and
foresight to form them. Very properly she is ex-
pected to subordinate herself to her elders, the chief
work of the years of childhood being to train us to
live in collective fashion. We then accept the property,
knowledge, beliefs, habits, ideals accumulated in the

32 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

family group. During absorptive childhood we have
little which we have not received.

Maturity discloses more. Gradually we become
aware of something precious within us which is just
ourself . We are somebody. The consciousness that I
am I parts me from others. Not that we then cease
to recognize duties to the family. These continue, but
undergo a change. Henceforth we perform them in
freedom, conscious that we too are persons of im-
portance and have duties to ourselves as well. Other
people are now discovered to be " selves " also, and the
adjustment of us to them becomes a puzzling prob-
lem. The period when this self-consciousness begins
to make itself felt is usually an awkward one^ The
early spontaneous charm has disappeared, while
personal dignity has not yet arisen. Jarrings and
antagonisms are ordinary indications that such a
period is approaching.

That one so sympathetic as Alice Freeman would
be saved from the worst of such clashes may easily
be guessed. I can learn of few of the self-assertions
and aberrations which usually appear in this epoch-
making transition. She had a will of her own, was
liable to anger, and easily resented personal annoy-
ance. But her consciousness of much beside herself
steadied her. Even in parting from the family she
took the family with her. Once at evening prayers
a large June-bug buzzed through the window and

GIRLHOOD 33

settled in a curl of her hair. He would not be de-
tached. She kept herself quiet through the several
minutes of prayer; then, as all rose from their knees,
she cried out, "I wanted to scream, but I could n't
upset you and God." "Of course not," said her
father, gravely dislodging the creature. For a good
while bursts of passion broke out when her will was
crossed. She would throw herself down and beat the
floor with her heels. But when one day she saw her
brother in a similar paroxysm, she examined him
with horror and at bedtime told her mother that she
should never be angry again. "Fred must n't be."
And though through after life rage at wrong often
boiled below the surface and came to an occasional
explosion, it was soon controlled, and rarely parted
her from him who occasioned it.

Yet however considerately the transition was
managed, childhood, the period of absorption in the
family, was ending as Alice Freeman settled into
the new life at Windsor ; self-seeking girlhood began,
an epoch stretching forward as far as the attainment
of the college degree. In this period the vigorous
girl or boy longs for enlargement, the forces ordi-
narily impelling most powerfully toward it being
education, love, and religion. All these came to
Alice Freeman, as they come to every girl; but to
her they came unusually early, orderly, and trans-
formingly.

34 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

The considerable village of Windsor where the
family was now living contained a school of supe-
rior rank, Windsor Academy. Its principal, Joseph
Eastman, was a man of more breadth than most
country towns can show. After graduating from
Dartmouth, he had gone through the Harvard Medi-
cal School and Andover Theological Seminary. He
was now both minister of the Presbyterian Church
in the village and principal of the Academy. Besides
himself the Academy employed half a dozen other
teachers, gave instruction in the languages, and was
the finishing school for most of its students. It was
much like one of our modern high schools, though
of looser organization and without the dominant aim
of preparing its pupils for college. On coming to
Windsor Dr. Freeman did much to raise its grade
and to change it from the school of a village to an
academy for all the country around. This school
Alice entered in September, 1865. Here her real
education began. Previously she had been her own
teacher, or had picked up what little was to be had on
the benches of a district school. Here at the age of
ten she learned to mix with a considerable company
of girls and boys, to feel the influence of accomplished
teachers, to see how large is the field of knowledge
and how small the amount which any one can gather.
Young as she was, she eagerly seized her opportunity
and began to form interests of her own. Throughout

GIRLHOOD 35

life she acknowledged her indebtedness to this
important school; and when in 1901 the Academy
celebrated its semi-centennial, she visited it and
renewed her gratitude to it and its pretty village.
From a report of her address on that occasion I take
the following passage : —

" Words do not tell what this old school and place
meant to me as a girl. I am proud to say that I was
the daughter of a farmer of the Susquehanna, and
for me there never can be another such village as
this. When I graduated in 1872 and went a thousand
miles westward to college, I bore away remembrances
of our magnificent river, its enormous width, strong
currents, and terrible freshets. But I recall that
when a college classmate came home with me for a
vacation, her eyes were reproachful as she said, 'I
thought you told me it was larger than the Missis-
sippi/ I believed then that all the nicest people lived
in Windsor ; that all the patriots of the country were
of our political party — no matter which party ; and
that all the good people belonged to the Presbyterian
Church. No one told me so, but I believed it. I have
changed my mind about some things since then.
But my faith in the old school has not grown less,
but more. Here we gathered abundant Greek, Latin,
French and Mathematics, though we have forgotten
a part; here we were taught truthfulness, to be up-
right and honorable ; here we had our first loves, our

36 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

first hopes, our first ambitions, our first dreams, and
some of us our first disappointments. We owe a
large debt to Windsor Academy for the solid ground-
work of education which it laid." I still have her
little Greek Testament with the name of the Academy
penciled on the fly-leaf.

That from the first she was something of a leader
in the school I infer from the following anecdote.
In the winter of 1867, when she was twelve, four
schools of Broome County held a literary contest.
Each school was to prepare a set of compositions.
These were to be put in charge of a delegate for
arrangement and for public reading. The other
schools chose teachers as delegates; Windsor chose
her. She carried off the prize on all three counts:
for arrangement, for reading, and for her own
composition.

In 1868 a deeper impulse began. There came to
the Academy a singularly inspiring teacher. Such an
event has formed the turning-point of many a life,
and more often than any other has been decisive in
bringing about a studious career. Some one person
has vitalized knowledge for us — it matters little
what branch — and almost magically our vague and
variable desires for learning, power, public service,
become crystallized and take a shape which de-
fies the batterings of after years. Personal influence
is a commanding factor everywhere; but nowhere

GIRLHOOD 37

has it so immediate or lasting an effect as in the
schools.

Alice's teacher was a young man who, after grad-
uating from Union College, had spent a year in
Princeton Theological Seminary. Being in debt for
his college education, he thought it well before ad-
vancing further toward his profession to teach a
while at Windsor. There he deeply influenced the
whole school, for his character was as strong as his
scholarship. But he had the discernment to single
out a child in one of the lower classes, and to this
large-eyed girl gave special care. Apparently from
the first he knew her precocious ability. Whether
she would ever have known it if he had not given her
insight, I have doubted. He taught her both ac-
curacy and enthusiasm. He made her think herself
worth while. He lent her books, fashioned her tastes,
talked with her, walked with her, showed her a great
human being to admire, made clearer her reverence
for Nature and for God, and in the two years of their
acquaintance transformed her into a woman. Was
it strange that he then began to love her whom he
had seemed to create? I have told how she was
always long in advance of her years. His sure eye
knew incipient excellence, and his idealizing nature
enjoyed beauty before it was blown. One gets a high
impression of a man who could be so affected by an
unfolding thing. On her side there seems to have

38 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

been dumb wonder and obedient esteem. How could
she refuse what one so exalted asked? She could
comprehend little of his love. Through all he had
done for her she had more easily felt a great in-
fluence than understood its words. But if in that
high region where he lived he wished her company,
her merry laughter, her picture, her hand, who else
could have an equal right ? With few girlish dreams
and small foresight of the future, but seriously and
with dignity, she consented to an engagement at
fourteen.

In every deep nature thoughts of love are allied
with thoughts of God. This year she joined the
Presbyterian Church. It is a heroic moment for any
one of us when, face to face with God, we formally
announce that henceforth we are accountable to Him
alone. It marks the attainment of full self -conscious-
ness. The young soul now takes itself in charge and
says, "Mine is the decision. I have chosen my way
of laying hold on life." The authority of parents is
at an end, supplanted by the laws of reason, right-
eousness, and human welfare. So at least Alice
Freeman understood her crisis. To it education,
love, and religion all contributed. Experiences which
fall upon most of us separately and at much later
periods she encountered in their collective force
when she had barely entered her teens. Her scale of
growth is different from the ordinary. She needed to

GIRLHOOD 39

start early, so as to pack into her forty-seven years
what others hardly include in their threescore and ten.

Always devout, she now consecrated herself, and
for the rest of her life the desire for the utmost serv-
ice of God's children seems to inspire every private
impulse. In her case religion did not appear in its
negative character, as restraint; it always signified
joyous freedom and enlargement. It brought as-
surance of humanity's kinship with the power which
dominates all. No situation can therefore arise in
which hostile forces are engaged against us, nor
need we be crushed by an indifferent world. Every
harshest circumstance contains some novel mode of
access to God and our broader life. Of these matters
she seldom spoke. I never knew her to argue them.
They merely represent her working conviction, con-
firmed by every day's experience. Thus she viewed
things, and things were ever ready to respond. Most
of us lightly assume as an ultimate ground of all
some sort of blind force, incomprehensible stuff
which we should be incapable of demonstrating if
challenged. She thought personal life as she knew
it in herself more intelligible, particularly as it ren-
dered an otherwise stupid world intelligible too, and
enabled her everywhere to live in her Father's house.

But the broader outlook on life now gained was
not altogether favorable to her engagement. Her
lover had let loose forces which soon passed beyond

40 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

his control. He had revealed her worth, a worth
which involved responsibility for its care. He had
opened unsuspected capacities which must now be
filled. Through him, the first college graduate she
had known, she discovered what the higher training
signifies. She was to be a fellow-worker with God.
To make herself as efficient as possible became then
the most urgent of duties. These were the thoughts
which gradually took shape in her puzzled mind
during the years 1869-71. For the paths of culture
and allegiance soon divided. In 1870 he was to
enter Yale Theological Seminary and make his final
preparation for the ministry. He proposed that she
should spend this time in completing her course at
Windsor, and afterwards join him in some country
parish. The proposal revealed what marriage with
him would mean. In it she would give but half her-
self. Such a fictitious union would dishonor both
him and her. She was too young, too unexpanded.
Until she had undergone college discipline she would
not have matured herself sufficiently to deserve a
strong man's love. Marriage, as she now and hence-
forth conceived it, was to be a comradeship of equals
where each contributes rich powers of different kinds
to a mutual life.

Accordingly six months after he had left her for
New Haven they parted, parted with kindness and
deep respect. He no less than she approved the

GIRLHOOD 41

separation. I believe they never met again. After
two years in Yale Seminary he became a minister,
and until his death was loved by all who knew him.
He married, and had a daughter whom he named
Alice. Neither could ever have regretted any part
of the invigorating connection. She has repeatedly
spoken to me of her debt to him who first awakened
her, to him who accompanied her so delicately
through difficult paths of decision, and who was in
himself so admirable.

Nor did his chivalrous protection of her cease
with his departure. In his company she had learned
once for all what she desired in marriage, and she
was henceforth guarded against casual and un-
worthy impulses as few young women are. It was
often thought strange that one of such beauty, re-
sponsiveness, and social opportunity could so long
remain single. In all other experiences of life she
anticipated her sex. Was this delay due to disparage-
ment of marriage ? No, but to the very reverse. And
because I perceive how impossible it is to make her
career comprehensible if I conceal these intimate
facts, I here set down a simple statement of them.

One set of difficulties in the way of going to college
was now removed. Another remained. Her parents
opposed the plan. Few had ever gone to college from
those parts, nor was it usual for girls to go at all.
The family means were scanty, though slightly im-

42 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

proved since farming days. The younger children
were becoming expensive. Dr. Freeman told his
daughter that it would be impossible for more than
one of the children to be given a college education,
and that this one ought to be the son, as he must
ultimately support the family. Alice declared that
she meant to have a college degree if it took her till
she was fifty to get it. If her parents could help her,
even partially, she would promise never to marry
until she had herself put her brother through college
and given to each of her sisters whatever education
they might wish — a promise subsequently per-
formed. She pointed out the importance to all the
family of her becoming one of its supports instead
of one of its dependents. The discussions were long
and grave, but her judgment finally prevailed. She
was to graduate from the Academy at seventeen, and
it was agreed that she should then immediately enter
college.

In the year before she went two events occurred
deserving mention. The Windsor church found that
its evening meetings were unattractive on account
of inadequate light. There was no central chande-
lier, and the few lamps scattered about the room left
it cheerless. Though Alice was then gathering means
for her college course, she presented a chandelier to
the church, earning tlie money that winter and going
without a coat.

GIRLHOOD 43

During the winter, too, Anna Dickinson came to
Binghamton for an evening lecture on Joan of Arc.
Alice had never heard a woman speak. She per-
suaded her father to take her in the sleigh over the
more than twenty miles of dark country road, and
was deeply moved by the speaker.

In deciding on a college the range of choice was
small. Wellesley, Smith, and Bryn Mawr were not
yet in existence. Mount Holyoke was still a " Female
Seminary," and Elmira hardly more, though legally
a college. To this latter she might naturally have
gone, as the college for girls nearest at hand. But
she had been reading college catalogues, and knew
that Elmira standards were low. To Vassar, which
had just been founded, she seems to have inclined
for a moment. But was it a true college, or merely
another Elmira? A boy in her class who was pre-
paring for Amherst hinted that these girls' colleges
were a contrivance for enabling women to pretend
that they had the same education as men. She had
suspected as much herself, and, being determined to
get the best, had already begun to turn toward
coeducation. But coeducational colleges were at
that time few. Michigan was the strongest of them,
and had opened its doors to women only two years
before. That, then, distant though it was, she
chose.

IV
THE UNIVERSITY

IN June, 1872, Dr. Freeman took his daughter
to Ann Arbor to see the University, attend Com-
mencement, and pass the entrance examinations.
But here her resolution met with a sharp rebuff. She
failed. Good as the Academy had been for supplying
general knowledge, it was poorly equipped for pre-
paring pupils for college. The failure, however,
proved as fortunate as everything else which befell
this favored girl, for it brought her to the notice of
the remarkable man who from that day took her
under his peculiar charge. President Angell himself
shall tell the story : —

"In 1872, when Alice Freeman presented herself
at my office, accompanied by her father, to apply
for admission to the University, she was a simple,
modest girl of seventeen. She had pursued her studies
in the little Academy at Windsor. Her teachers re-
garded her as a child of much promise, precocious,
possessed of a bright, alert mind, of great industry,
of quick sympathies, and of an instinctive desire to
be helpful to others. Her preparation for college
had been meagre, and both she and her father were

THE UNIVERSITY 45

doubtful of her ability to pass the required examina-
tions. The doubts were not without foundation.
The examiners, on inspecting her work, were in-
clined to decide that she ought to do more prepara-
tory work before they could accept her. Meantime
I had had not a little conversation with her and her
father, and had been impressed with her high intel-
ligence. At my request the examiners decided to
allow her to enter on a trial of six weeks. I was con-
fident she would demonstrate her capacity to go on
with her class. I need hardly add that it was soon
apparent to her instructors that my confidence was
fully justified. She speedily gained and constantly
held an excellent position as a scholar."

But the deficiencies of the past hampered progress.
Already she was much in need of rest after the strain
of preparation; yet all the summer before entrance
had to be spent in clearing away conditions, and she
remained in Ann Arbor through the vacations of that
year, engaged in study for the same purpose. This
business of removing conditions went on, too, side
by side with the regular college work, lowering the
grade of the latter and causing frequent exhaustion.
At intervals the assistance of a teacher became
necessary, still further depleting her scanty means.
Throughout her college course solicitudes over time,
health, and money never ceased. Yet anxieties seem
rather to have caused elation over what was already

46 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

had than depression over what might be missed.
College training had been so long desired that it was
welcomed now on any terms.

And indeed on almost any terms it is delightful.
For most of us the period of learning is a period of
romance. We are young, and all things are possi-
ble. Every circumstance is novel, calculated in some
way to serve our growth and happiness. Even those
of us who have spent our early years in toil learn
at last how to profit by play. We make a few intimate
friends and a wide circle of acquaintances. We
fashion our ideals, compare them with those about
us, and have them sharply criticised. The physical
world more deeply discloses its wonders. Through
many avenues we enter into the heritage of the race.
Whatever is precious in the past and has been
thought worth preserving in the caskets called books
is offered for our enrichment. And in our teachers
we have wise guides who not only conduct us to these
treasures, but point out their human significance.
It must be an abnormal girl or boy who does not
count such years happy.

All this Miss Freeman felt. To her the absurdly
named town of Ann Arbor was ever afterwards
sacred soil. She visited it as often as possible, and
everywhere her face brightened at the sight of a
classmate. Notwithstanding many disturbances, she
has repeatedly told me of the extreme pleasure and

THE UNIVERSITY 47

profit of these years; and in her little book, "Why
Go to College," she has given a glowing picture of
the gain which the experiences of college bring to
every earnest girl. I regret therefore that most of
her college letters, being chiefly of a business nature,
imperfectly express her gaiety or even her studious
interests. From them, however, aided by the recol-
lection of classmates, I am able to present a tolerable
account of her intellectual, social, religious, physical,
and financial progress during these college years. „
Her scholarly work cannot, I suppose, be called
quite solid. There was too much of it for that. The
regular studies were abundant ; the addition of those
which should have been ended in the preparatory
school made the amount burdensome; and this
became overwhelming when increased by the worthy
engagements outside study which in this place of
opportunity solicited a hitherto secluded girl. From
intellectual disaster she was saved by a peculiarity
of her constitution. To an astonishing degree she
was always swiftly absorptive. Whatever in her
neighborhood contained human nutriment was per-
ceived and seized at once. All became hers with
slight expenditure of time or effort. Throughout life
she gathered half-instinctively an amount of know-
ledge which others obtain only by toil. A mother
whose son was in the University at this time relates
how he used to come home saying, "There's a girl

48 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

in my class who knows everything — everything!"
And one who was associated with her in the teaching
of history at Wellesley tells me that she herself
rarely gained any new historic insight and reported
it to Miss Freeman without finding that Miss Free-
man was familiar with it already. Indeed her sym-
pathy with truth was so broad and discerning that
reality opened itself to her on every side. Could she
have had more leisure at the University, she might
have distinguished herself there; though perhaps
even then her liking for every species of knowledge
would have prevented eminence. She would not
concentrate attention on certain subjects to the neg-
lect of others. Such specialization was less the habit
of her day than of ours. So she was free to approach
all, and in all she managed to obtain a good rank.
History, Greek, English literature, and to some
extent mathematics, were the studies that left the
deepest impression; chiefly, I suspect, because of
the excellence of the instruction in these subjects.

Her memory was good and her observation accu-
rate. I think she retained more of what she learned
than is common. One is often struck with the small
stock of knowledge carried off from study, even by
those who obtain through it decided intellectual ad-
vantage. Maturing influences and facts acquired
seem to have little relation ; and no doubt if one of
these is to be lost, the detailed truths had better

THE UNIVERSITY 49

go. Miss Freeman kept a good balance between
the contrasted gains. During these years her mind
grew rapidly in range, subtlety, coherence, and in
persistent power of work. But she bore away also
a body of knowledge which served her well in her
career as a teacher and in the subsequent varied
demands of a busy life. At Commencement a part
was assigned her, one of the first granted to the girl
students of Michigan. President Angell tells me it
captured the attention of her audience and held it
firmly throughout. Its subject was "The Relations
of Science and Poetry" — an indication, I suppose,
that she had already come upon some of the fun-
damental problems which vex the scholar's mind.
But of at least equal importance with the know-
ledge acquired in college is the influence on a student
of the personality of his teachers. Some of these, it
is true, will always be mere purveyors of knowledge ;
others, more insignificant still, inspectors of what has
been learned already. But in every college faculty
there are pretty sure to be certain men of mark, from
whom — sometimes in the course of instruction,
sometimes through personal acquaintance — a stu-
dent half-imperceptibly carries off impressions and
impulses of incalculable worth. In such weighty
personalities the University of Michigan in Miss
Freeman's time was exceptionally rich. Half a
dozen of them helped to shape this responsive girl.

50 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Of familiar intercourse with her teachers I suspect
she enjoyed more than is generally obtainable to-day.
President and Mrs. Angell had her much in their
beautiful home, as did in different degrees Profes-
sors D 'Ooge, Tyler, and Adams. These men enriched
her outside the classroom and became her lifelong
friends. While she was in college they watched over
her carefully, and when she went forth they opened
before her the difficult doors of the world.

In those days women's education was an anxious
experiment. At graduation her class contained sixty-
four men and eleven women. The girls were there-
fore studied by others and themselves a little unduly.
Heartily welcomed everywhere though they were, they
could not take what each day brought quite as a mat-
ter of course. Being pioneers and representatives
of many who would come afterwards, they were
burdened with a sense of responsibility. According as
they conducted themselves their sisters would have
ampler or narrower opportunities. Such conscious
conditions insure uprightness, but are hardly so
favorable for ease and the graces. They had at least
the good effect of banding the girls together and
uniting the little group by something like a family
tie. Though Miss Freeman was one of the younger
members of this family, she quickly became its head
by virtue of her practical sagacity, moral force, and
personal attractiveness. President Angell writes: —

THE UNIVERSITY 51

"One of her most striking characteristics in college
was her warm and demonstrative sympathy with her
circle of friends. Her soul seemed bubbling over
with joy, which she wished to share with the other
girls. While she was therefore in the most friendly
relations with all the girls then in college, she was
the radiant centre of a considerable group whose
tastes were congenial with her own. Without assum-
ing or striving for leadership, she could not but be
to a certain degree a leader among these, some of
whom have since attained positions only less con-
spicuous for usefulness than her own. Her nature
was so large and generous, so free from envy, that
she was esteemed by all her comrades, whether they
cherished exactly her ideals or not. Wherever she
went, her genial outgoing spirit seemed to carry with
her an atmosphere of cheerfulness and joy. No girl
of her time on withdrawing from college would have
been more missed than she."

She joined several college clubs, distinguished her-
self in the debating society, was fond of long walks
through the fertile Michigan country, and always had
leisure for a share in whatever picnic, sleighride, or
student entertainment called for merriment, adven-
ture, inventiveness, or social tact.

Throughout life she thought herself fortunate in
having chosen a coeducational college. The natural
association of girls with boys in interests of a noble

52 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

sort tends, she believed, to broaden their vision, to
solidify their minds, and to remove much that is hec-
tic and unwholesome from the awakening instincts of
sex. She did not think it made girls boyish, or boys
girlish ; but merely that it brought good sense and a
pleased companionship to take the place of giddi-
ness and sentimentality. She used to say that co-
educational marriages seldom appear in the divorce
courts. I think her own manners — as quiet and
free among men as among women — owed much of
their naturalness to the fact that at no period of her
life did men become strange. Professor Hale of
Chicago has well said, "It was Mrs. Palmer's con-
viction that the normal form of education for both
sexes is that in which the natural relations — begun
in the life of the home and the neighborhood, con-
tinued for the great majority in the life of the school,
and inevitably existing in the later social life — are
carried without break through the four years of
higher intellectual work. She may have been right
or she may have been wrong ; but that such a woman,
with her personal experience of Ann Arbor, of Welles-
ley, of Radcliffe, and of Harvard, should have
held this belief is a fact to be reckoned with." In
tracing her development at Ann Arbor we must not
omit to notice the ability she gained there to com-
prehend a man's world. Certainly from that univer-
sity came many of the best ideals of college structure

THE UNIVERSITY 53

which subsequently entered into the foundation of
Wellesley. I doubt if she could have built that
woman's college so strongly if she had not herself
been trained in the company of men.

Side by side with the studious and social interests
of college life went religion, of which they were in
reality only a special expression ; for religion glorified
her entire existence. One who knew her well at this
time says that even then "her religious life was of
that cheerful, inspiring type which characterized it
in her maturer years and which always commended
the Christian faith in winsome ways to those who
came within her influence."

At the beginning of her residence in Ann Arbor
she connected herself with the Presbyterian Church,
of which Samuel Willoughby Duffield was the pastor.
He was a man of enthusiasm and scholarship, in
many respects akin to herself, and to him she became
warmly attached. Every Sunday she attended two
church services, taught in the Sunday School, in a
mission school also, and was usually present at one
or two services during the week. But into the College
Christian Association she threw herself with the
utmost ardor, vitalizing that body and delivering it
from the narrowness which in those days often beset
such organizations. She brought it to represent
more than a single type of character. While she was
its leader it became a strong power for righteousness

54 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

throughout the entire town. To her, too, her class-
mates, men and women, most naturally turned as a
spiritual adviser. The knowledge she thus obtained
of the troubles of the young, real or imaginary,
proved useful in the larger contacts of later years,
and even now began to shape the ideals of what she
meant to do. Before she left college, the desire to
deepen, to lighten, to render more intelligent and
joyous the lives of girls and women, had become
clearly defined.

I have said that consumption was in her family,
and that from childhood she had never been strong.
The lungs and heart were weak and there was a dis-
position to colds and fatigue. That " outgoing spirit "
too, of which President Angell speaks, continually
exposed her to excessive strain. Whatever human
interest or need appeared in her neighborhood was
pretty sure to receive attention. To consider and
spare herself never became instinctive, though in
later years she trained her powers to some degree of
restraint for the sake of broader use. But swift
responsiveness and a kind of spendthrift generosity
have ever been beautiful faults of admirable women.
Even Providence seems unfairly indulgent to self-
forgetting souls and unaccountably wards off from
them appropriate harm. How she accomplished all
she did, accomplished it too with distinction, is a
mystery. On account of an interruption in her

THE UNIVERSITY 55

junior year, she had as a senior twenty hours a
week of recitations, and no less as a freshman,
though her social and religious engagements were
alone sufficient to fill her time. Yet she graduated,
as do most girls, stronger than she entered. Studying
is wholesome business ; and after all, college life has
more regular hours and more invigorating agencies
than most homes can offer. But considering her in-
heritance, the exhausting nature of the last two years
at Windsor, and the burden of her deficient prepara-
tion, it is not strange that her letters often speak
of being " tired " and of the hope that her cold " will
be better next week." One of the professors whom
she saw oftenest tells me he frequently remonstrated
with her over the cough she brought to college, a
cough which continued until a few years before her
death.

Financial anxieties burdened her too. There was
always uncertainty whether she would be able to
continue in college another year. From the begin-
ning her parents had strained their slender purse to
the utmost, and she herself earned whatever was pos-
sible. But resources still remained small and ex-
penses large. To bring the two at all together called
for restraint, courage, ingenuity, and a readiness to
do things for herself. I have thought it well to print
one or two letters which show the details of this
pathetic struggle. They can hardly be read without

56 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

tears and smiles. But every college teacher will
recognize them as typical letters, such as still go
home from every part of the country where brave
young men and women are using skill and dignity
to compass knowledge.

The circumstances of the family had not improved.
When Miss Freeman entered college, prospects were
bright. Considerable woodlands on the farm pro-
mised, if properly developed, to yield a good return;
but such development required money and constant
supervision, while a country doctor could furnish
little of either. In consequence, each year grew
harder than the one before. Floods too along the
Susquehanna finally swept away a great body of
lumber which had gradually been collected there.
In the middle of her junior year letters from home
disclosed serious entanglement. She did not wait for
consultation with her family, but applied at once to
President Angell for a position as a teacher, accepted
an appointment, travelled to her new home at
Ottawa, Illinois, and was already established in her
duties there before she informed her parents. This
was in January, 1875, when she was not twenty
years old.

The Ottawa High School had suddenly lost its
principal and needed a prudent management to keep
it from going to pieces. She became its head. It was
the first school in which she ever taught, while many

THE UNIVERSITY 57

of its pupils were nearly her own age. The other
schools of the town were subordinate to this, and their
teachers were men and women of experience. The
amount of her teaching, principally in Greek and
Latin, was large; and what was not contracted for,
though equally necessary, was more difficult still, —
the winning of the confidence of her pupils and the
town. She gave of her best. At the close of the
twenty weeks for which she had engaged herself,
she was urged by all connected with the school to
remain in it permanently. But she declined. The
salary had been ample. Out of it she relieved the
family necessities and secured the finishing of her
college course. After spending the summer at home
she returned to Ann Arbor, making up the omitted
studies partly during the vacation and partly in con-
nection with the work of the senior year.

For the brief selection of letters which follows I
am fortunate in finding some that picture the ordinary
current of college affairs; some that show its per-
plexities; some that reveal a spirit already moving
toward self-confidence and reform; some written at
Ottawa, where the first success is had in teaching.
I do not date them. It is not always possible. And
they are arranged rather by subject than by time.
All are youthful, artless, hasty, intended for only
the receiver's eye. But surely the lucidity and eleva-
tion of their young writer will please.

58 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

LETTERS

Dear ones at home, you will expect a letter from
me immediately; so, though I am very tired, I am
going to write. Read it if you can. I arrived at
50 State Street at noon about an hour ago, and found
Mrs. Williams expecting me. I have a pleasant room,
nicely furnished, with everything any one could
want, even to bookshelves : a pretty little stove, an
ingrain carpet, a table and cover. Mrs. Williams
had dinner waiting, and I am sure it will be a
pleasant boarding-place. On one side of the house
there is a large brick building, where there is a
school for little children. Just now they are mak-
ing all the noise it is possible for boys to make. On
the other side they are building a church. So this
afternoon, when my head aches, my surroundings
are not quite perfect ; but I think I shall get used
to it after a little while.

Coming here I rode in the car where you put me,
without changing until just before reaching Niagara
Falls. At Elmira a young gentleman and his sister
came into my car. They were going West too. He
saw I was alone and spoke to me, after which we
three went together. The conductor told us if we
would exchange for a berth on the sleeper we could
go through to Detroit without further change. So
the young man took a berth for his sister and myself,

THE UNIVERSITY 59

and slept on a couch near by. They were bound
for Chicago, and took the drawing-room coach at
Detroit. We parted company there. It was pleasant
for me; but we don't know each other's names,
only his sister called him "Joe." He bought us nice
grapes at London, with which we stained our dresses.
The car from Detroit to Ann Arbor was crowded,
but another accommodating young man gave me his
seat. All the way I have been fortunate and have
had to spend only $2.75. I shall write again very
soon.

I have just passed five examinations and feel
pretty well satisfied with the result of my semester's
work. We had the usual number of visitors and
spectators. I was called up for oral examination in
everything, but was fortunate enough not to blunder
and so can't complain.

In Latin something happened which amused the
boys very much. Professor Frieze has just returned
from Europe and of course does n't know any of us
yet. After we had been writing for some time and
all the company had come in, our Professor Walter
called up Miss Freeman. He named one of Horace's
long hard Satires, giving me a book and asking me
to read it, " thinking it would be interesting to the
gentlemen." It happened to be one I knew perfectly,
and I read it immediately — apparently to the aston-

60 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

ishment of Professor Frieze. As I finished, Professor
Walter said to him, " Have you any questions ? "
Professor Frieze looked at me gravely, shook his
head, and growled, "No. What's her name?"
Then the boys laughed.

In Greek too I could n't have asked a better chance
to show off. Professor Pattingill expressed his appro-
bation. This is boasting enough, but I thought you'd
want to know how your little girl is prospering.
There is an unheard-of number conditioned, over
eighty in one class, but only one girl. Our class, too,
is noted for its high scholarship. My special studies
this semester are Juvenal's Satires, Calculus, and
Astronomy, with all of which I am delighted.

I have received all the letters you mention, but have
only $16.00. Perhaps you have sent more and I have
made some mistake. But I think not. Never mind.
I'll pay it all back some time. I ought to settle my
account here as soon as possible. If papa can send
me money for the bills I shall be very glad. Provi-
sions are very high, as usual in spring, and my bills
are still more at the Club.

I have been just as economical as possible all the
year, but of course the money you have been able to
send has n't been sufficient. We have had to burn a
great deal of wood, as it has been and still is very
cold ; and my bill will be a little over $12.00. I had

'THE UNIVERSITY 61

to get me a new pair of shoes. You know I had only
the cloth ones which I wore last summer. They
lasted until this spring. I wore my blue hat just as it
was all winter, and am wearing my old black one
now. I got two yards of black ribbon and trimmed
it myself. I bought a pair of cheap black kid gloves
a few days ago, some lace for my neck and sleeves,
and a fresh ribbon. I have got nothing I could do
without ; but you know I have to be dressed well all
the time in the position I am in. I think I have all
the books I shall need. They have cost me more
than usual. But the most of the money you have sent
has been paid for board.

If you can help me through this year I will try as
best I may to take up the paddle and push my own
canoe afterwards. Whatever comes, dear mother, I
know is best for me. It is all right. Still I believe
God helps only those who help themselves. I shall
try to do my part, and I fully expect He will do the
rest. Mother de*ar, I have come to several places,
even so soon, where I could only see one step ahead ;
but as soon as I have taken that, another has been
opened for me. That is all, I suppose, that is really
necessary, though it is n't very pleasant. So I am
waiting and trusting and working just as hard as I
can while the day lasts. Don't make yourself un-
happy nor let any of the rest do so. Why should you
when He has said, "Seek first the kingdom of God

62 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

and all things shall be added." If our Father wants
me to go through college, I know I shall go; and if
He does n't, I don't want to. That is the end of it.
Meanwhile I am planning and thinking. If it comes
to anything, I will report.

Now I must stop and get a lesson in rhetoric of
thirty pages for to-morrow at eight o'clock. You see
my life in these days is full. I try to do just as much
every day as I would if it were my last in college. It
is n't long now before I shall see you, and you will
see your tired child.

Ann Arbor has been in uncontrollable excitement
this week. Thirty boys have been suspended for the
remainder of the year, and one expelled. It is said
to be a thing unheard-of in the history of American
colleges. I send you only two of the numerous publi-
cations on the affair. I never went through such a
week in my life. You don't know anything about
it unless you are in the midst of it." The senior and
junior classes are aroused, and the whole body of
students "bolted" chapel two mornings last week.
At a great meeting a petition was sent to the Faculty,
signed by sixty-five sophomores and seventy fresh-
men, asking to be sent off too, as they were equally
guilty. If there is a general suspension, the two
classes will go in a body to Cornell. The boys who
did n't sign the petition have promised to go too. It

THE UNIVERSITY 63

is the greatest shaking which the college has ever
had.

Small-pox is spreading dreadfully. It was taken
from a subject in the dissecting room, and over
thirty of the medical students have it. One died of
it yesterday. As soon as cases break out they are
taken to the pest-house, though some are too sick to
be moved. A panic prevails and the citizens are
trying to have the university closed. This certainly
will not be done until after examination time, though
possibly then if the disease continues to spread. A
great many students have gone home, but I'm not
afraid. I should be more afraid to set off travelling
now.

I went to the Opera last week with Mr. W. I can't
describe it to you. It was all light and music and
dancing, magnificent costumes and amazing trans-
actions, very brilliant and graceful and beautiful.
The house was crowded. I wore my blue suit, which,
with my blue and white hat and white gloves, makes
a pretty outfit for such an occasion. I enjoyed the
evening exceedingly. But I found myself handed to
my door at eleven o'clock with a nervous headache
and a very tired body. It pays to go once, but it
would n't do for a University girl, with her head and
hands more than full, to indulge in such exciting
pleasures often.

64 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I'm sorry I could n't write you on Sunday, but I
was very busy, had my hat off only once between
church and bed-time, and that was when I ate my
dinner. It was the first Sunday when it has n't rained
since I came from home. Church begins at half -past
ten. Then comes my Bible class till two. At half-past
two I go to the class in the Greek Testament. On
Sundays dinner is at three. After it F. and I went
over to the cemetery, — as beautiful a place as you
can think of — so many trees there, as shady and still
as a forest. I never saw so many squirrels, and they
say it is full of birds in summer. I could spend a week
there. Then the young people of the Presbyterian
Church have a prayer-meeting at six o'clock, which I
always attend, and preaching comes at seven. Of
late there has been great interest in religion here.
Our meetings are full.

At my mission school there are about eighty
scholars and only six or seven teachers. Several of
these attend pretty irregularly. The children are
mostly German, bright and interesting. The super-
intendent is a senior in college. He told me this
afternoon that he had given me the worst class in
school, but he wanted me to try them. They have
had a variety of teachers, who have n't succeeded in
keeping even decent order. Some of them are cer-
tainly bold and bad looking. They are boys from
ten to fifteen and are pretty nearly unmanageable.

THE UNIVERSITY 65

Well, it 's an experiment, and I suppose they will give
me more than one problem this winter. I'm sure I
had my hands full this afternoon.

This is the first day of vacation. I have been so
busy this year that it seems good to get a change, even
though I do keep right on here at work. For some
time I have been giving a young man lessons in Greek
each Saturday. It has taken about all day, and with
all my college work has kept me very busy. I have
had two junior speeches already, and there are still
more. Several girls from Flint tried to have me go
home with them for the vacation, but I made up my
mind to stay and do what I could for myself and the
other people here. A young Mr. M. is going to
recite to me every day in Virgil; so with teaching
and all the rest I shan't have time to be homesick,
though it will seem rather lonely when the other
girls are gone and I don't hear the college bell for two
weeks.

My mission school is prosperous, though I found
my class pretty badly demoralized by the vacation.
It has been hard work pulling it into order again.
Two missionaries from Turkey are here, one a gradu-
ate of this university. He spoke in the hall last night
to an audience of two thousand. I met him yesterday
and had a good deal of talk with him, and he was

66 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

in all my recitations to-day. He says, " We want
you, Miss Freeman, in Central Turkey ; " Professor
D'Ooge adds, " We want you in the United States/'
They have finally concluded to leave it to me ; and
I don't believe I'm wanted very badly anywhere.

This week has been one of the saddest I have spent
here, notwithstanding the fact that Miss S. is get-
ting well. She is now so much better that there is lit-
tle doubt of her entire recovery, and she will soon go
home. I sat up all night with her Wednesday. The
girls take turns in looking after her, which we shan't
need to do much longer. But death has come among
us this week. Mr. C. of '75 was one of my good
friends. Last year he was elected President of our
Lecture Association, the highest office of the senior
class. Dr. Angell says he was the foremost man in
his class. I came to know him in the Association,
where he was very prominent. He was preparing
for the ministry. A week ago he was at the prayer
meeting and afterwards talked to me earnestly of his
plans for next winter. He lives only a few miles from
here and goes home every Saturday. As he started
for home last week he remarked to a friend that he
was not feeling quite well ; and almost before we had
missed him news came on Tuesday that he was dead.
Brain fever did its work in three days, and carried
off one of the noblest men I shall ever know. His

THE UNIVERSITY 67

class went in a body to the funeral and the entire
university is completely shocked.

Ottawa

My first week here was hard. Of course there are
many things to get used to, and so many strange
names and faces to put together. But it will all grow
easier after a time, and I have been feeling pretty
well. I begin at nine in the morning and end at half-
past four. Then I have my registers and class books
to arrange, and so don't go home until supper time.
After that I have eight lessons to prepare for the next
day, which, when I'm tired, costs some effort. I try
to spend the entire evening on these ; only I have had
calls every evening so far, which takes time, you
know. Friday nights I arrange the standing of each
one and count the absences. If these amount to three
half days, I send a note to the parents. Once a week
we have essays, declamations, and select readings;
and Saturday afternoons I have essays to criticise.
Then I board three quarters of a mile from the
school, and that takes time, but I like it. Saturday
I got at my merino dress, put a new braid on, and
sewed all the evening as hard as possible. I don't
know when I have improved every minute as I have
been obliged to here. It is a very good thing. I had
such an abominable habit of wasting time, and I'm
likely to get cured. You must tell me all about our

68 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

classes and what is doing each week. I get so hun-
gry to hear it all. I just devoured your letter. Do
tell me the little things.

Yesterday an Irishman living in this street, while
drunk, struck his wife with an ax, hitting her over
the head, in fact pounded her almost to death. She
was in terrible pain. A neighbor called the doctor,
who was with her till she died just before noon ; but
he could do little for her. There 's no doubt that her
husband killed her. What is worse, she herself drank
almost as much as he, and was a very bad woman.
There 's one little boy. Oh, L. ! Don't you wish we
could stop this dreadful liquor selling ? That 's where
the blame lies. If I were a man, would n't I do some-
thing ? Come to think of it, I should n't wonder if I
should as it is.

Your letter came Wednesday in a terrible snow-
storm, itself almost like a great snowflake, and made
me want to go to you. For a while I felt as if I must
put my arms about you and try to comfort you. But
I could only come up here by myself and pray that
the dear Christ, who loves and pities you, would give
you peace and rest. After all, I am afraid that is all I
can ever do. Perhaps it is the most any of us can do
for each other, no matter what our love may be. But
you are not " all alone." Don't ever say so. " Lo, I

THE UNIVERSITY 69

am with you always, even unto the end." I think of
you so often this hard examination week, so much
harder now when you are sick — body and soul. Do
be just as happy as you can, in any way you can.
You have found that fighting yourself does no good,
that in the unequal contest you are trying to crush
what each day shows you is a part of your very soul.
No! Shun everything that hurts you. Be good to
yourself always and everywhere. You have n't any
too much strength. But if you carry your cross, you
may obtain strength from it for the onward journey.
So take it in and let it help and soothe you, even
though you know it to be a dream.

Such a dreadful thing has happened ! A letter of
two sheets came from Mr. W. this week; and oh,
such a letter ! It just takes my breath away, it hurts
me so to think of it. Why, why is it that I seem
doomed to the very thing I would most be delivered
from ? I never imagined it in him, did you ? I must
answer it to-day, and it does n't seem as if I could.
It is such a passionate letter, and I know he must
be terribly in earnest to talk so. I tremble for the
effect it will have on him ju«t now. Do be kind to
him, if you have any chance. And here is Mr. S.
walking home from class with me every evening. I
moved, you know, to get away for a little while from
worry of this sort. And of course I don't mean to say

70 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

such an absurd thing as that he is really in danger.
Only he is too kind. But I am getting suspicious of
everybody who looks at me, unless I have been intro-
duced to his wife.

I finished yesterday just half the weeks I have to
teach, and the ten that are left will pass too quickly,
doubtless, for the work which is to be done in them ;
but not when I think where the end of them will take
me. Once in a while I dread going back to college.
Not that it is n't far pleasanter than teaching. But
sometimes the world seems sick. I can't help think-
ing of what you told me of the secret societies. God
help us all! He alone is able. Let us pray for the
noble young men who are going down unless an arm
mighty to save is quickly thrown around them. So
S. has gone too! I liked the boy so much. Perhaps
it is better for him. But what a loss to the class!
Really in a year there won't be much of a class left,
at this rate. Oh, if we could only sit down and talk
it all over!

Mother, this being off alone, so out in the world,
is tiresome; the more so because my life is crowded
with work and care. But I am succeeding. There
was a meeting of the Board this week, and the Presi-
dent afterwards informed me that " they were all
grateful to me for what I was doing for the school.

THE UNIVERSITY 71

And though from the first I had given them to under-
stand that I was here only for the year, they begged
me to reconsider the matter ; " in short, telling me I
must stay. I told him as politely as I knew how that
I could n't and should n't, and they still insist. They
say I know enough now and can finish my studies
by myself. As if they knew ! Well ! I hope they won't
be disappointed before the year is out.

V

SCHOOL-TEACHING

WHEN a young person leaves college, where for
four years he has been supported while happily
pursuing his own ends, and goes forth into an alien
world which demands as its price for his living that
he shall attend to its needs, the change is disturbing.
In college the aims of culture and enjoyment are
dominant; in the world outside there is the neces-
sity of watching others' wants ; our own preferences
drop a good deal out of sight. Accordingly it is of-
ten said that a college unfits one for practical life.
Though it gives the means of becoming broadly ser-
viceable, it does not necessarily bring the desire, and
certainly does not form the requisite habits. What we
gain in college is apt enough to stick fast within us,
and not easily to pass beyond. Before we can suc-
ceed in the new and dutiful ways our aims need re-
adjusting. For most persons there comes something
of a jolt in turning from the period of acquisition
to that of distribution. In Miss Freeman's case this
was less violent on account of her early training and
the austere conditions which attended her college
life. Yet even she found the years immediately after

SCHOOL-TEACHING 73

leaving college severe. From 1876 to 1881 she went
through much exhausting drudgery : she was over-
worked and underpaid, she was imperfectly fed, she
had too little fresh air and amusement, she was bur-
dened with family anxieties, and was sent hither
and thither with little power to choose the place
where she would be. The beginnings of professional
life make little account of personal desires. The years
1876-87, therefore, from graduation to her mar-
riage, I group together as a third period of her career
and call it her time of service. In her second period,
from her entering Windsor Academy to her leaving
the University of Michigan, she was — though with
many distractions — accumulating knowledge and
properly serving her own ends. Now, what others
require becomes her chief care, and she is mainly
busied with expenditure.

At Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, was a seminary for
girls, whose ages ranged from twelve to twenty-five.
Its head was a college acquaintance of Miss Free-
man's, and two of her classmates were engaged as
teachers. She herself agreed to take charge of the
Greek and Latin on a nominal salary of eight hun-
dred dollars. Part of this was conditional on the
success of the school; three hundred dollars was
charged to the tuition of her sister Ella, who, hav-
ing just become engaged, now needed good general
training rather than a college course. The actual

74 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

profits of the undertaking were therefore small. The
summer had to be spent in preparing her sister and
herself for the new work. In the midst of it the
youngest sister, Stella, fell seriously ill, while the
financial prospects of the family grew steadily darker.
There was a gloom upon her when she went to Lake
Geneva which increased the hardships of the early
weeks there. She writes : —

"A month ago I took the severest cold I have had
for years. It went to my lungs, and for some days
made me decidedly sick. I am better now. But one
does n't get entire rest in teaching at a boarding
school, even when one is well. I am far from that.
You know I did n't rest during the summer, and I
have n't rested for a good while. When I came here,
weary and sad, I threw myself into my work; for I
found many perplexities and difficulties. So long as
my time was taken in working against these, I did not
feel the weakness which crept over me after I began
to see more * open doors ' about and ahead of me.
The work itself is n't so very hard. I ought to grow
strong in it. But I am not used to boarding school
life. Being * slave to a bell and vassal to an hour '
is irksome sometimes when my heart longs for other
scenes and the friends from whose presence I have
gone away. My roommate is a refined, talented, and
pleasant person of thirty; and yet I would so much
rather be alone. You ask if I am happy. Let me be

SCHOOL-TEACHING 75

honest with you to-night. No, I am not. But I am
content, and that is better. I am at work, and before
me stretch high aims and great tasks, more than
enough to fill the years until I shall awake in His
likeness and be satisfied."

But these were not Miss Freeman's usual moods.
The sense of human needs in the school soon engaged
her, and a fair degree of health returned. Of the way
in which her ideals of teaching were taking shape a
good notion may be had from a letter written at this
time to one of her friends, who was herself a teacher :

"You ask how I work among the girls to gain
influence. Let me talk to you a little about it. As
I lived among these young people day after day, I
felt a want of something: not intellectual, or even
religious, culture; not a lack of physical training or
that acquaintance with social life which can be so
charming in a true woman ; but a something I must
call heart culture, in lack of a better name. Every
one was kind, but cold. There was no intentional
freezing, but an absence of the sunshine which melts
its own way. Looking on and into them, I said, I
will try to be a friend to them all, and put all that is
truest and sweetest, sunniest and strongest that I can
gather into their lives. While I teach them solid
knowledge, and give them real school drill as faith-
fully as I may, I will give, too, all that the years have
brought to my own soul. God help me to give what

76 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

He gave — myself — and make that self worth some-
thing to somebody; teach me to love all as He has
loved, for the sake of the infinite possibilities locked
up in every human soul. Consecrating myself to the
future of these girls, to them as women, I have tried
in this life among them to make them feel that they
can always come to me in happy and in sad times,
in restless moments, or homesick and tired hours.
Whenever they want help or comfort, my door and
heart shall be open. Not that I have said this. I
have just felt it, and I think they feel it too. We
kneel together every evening, and every morning at
chapel service their faces look up into mine. Keeping
my eyes open for chances, I find the rest takes care
of itself — a word, a look even, the touch of a hand ;
and by and by, when the time comes, something more.
I have to work very differently here from what was
possible in Ann Arbor. A university town has food
which you can't give boarding-school girls, nor men
and women of still less culture ; and these make up
the majority of a town like this, though we have
some families as cultivated and wealthy as can be
found anywhere. But Christianity meets the wants
of every heart ; only it takes experience, knowledge
of and insight into human nature — but far more
than anything else, the spirit of Christ himself — in
order to know when and how to speak. Why, what
is it to be a Christian, a Christ-follower, unless it

SCHOOL-TEACHING 77

is going about doing good ? We ought to love every-
body and make everybody love us. Then everything
else is easy."

Such a teacher does not fail. Miss Freeman was
pressed to continue another year. But the atmosphere
of a private school was never quite congenial to her.
Its little proprieties, its small interests, its narrow
intellectual horizon, were matters distasteful to her
free soul, and yet she was powerless to change them.
If she were to teach the following year, she preferred
to do so in a public school, where there would be both
boys and girls. But dreams of wider scope were run-
ning in her head. Throughout her college course she
had hoped for a period of graduate study; and she
felt this especially important in view of the interrup-
tion of her junior year. She longed to repair that
loss, as well as the damage done by the crowded
freshman time. In the early seventies, too, the degree
of Doctor of Philosophy was just beginning to assert
its haughty claims, and was felt doubly desirable by
those who had little opportunity for undergraduate
electives. History was her favorite study. It dealt
with persons. Her imagination illuminated it and
she followed with enthusiasm its vast moral evolu-
tions. Then, too, always and everywhere she loved
a fact. Foreseeing that most of her solid years must
be given to teaching, she seems to have formed some
project of devoting summer vacations, and later per-

78 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

haps a single entire year, to advanced study. Imme-
diately on leaving Lake Geneva she accordingly
began work on an historical subject at Ann Arbor.
I find the following memorandum in her hand :
" June-Sept., 1877. Spent the summer in Ann Arbor
studying for a higher degree. Did not return for ex-
aminations the following year on account of Stella's
illness. Was offered an instructorship in mathemat-
ics at Wellesley College, but declined." The plan of
advanced study was never abandoned. From time
to time, as other toils permitted, it was resumed;
and though her thesis was never completed, in 1882
the university conferred on her the degree of Ph.D.

As the official head of education in that state, the
University of Michigan interests itself in the welfare
of all its high schools. One of these at Saginaw, in
Northern Michigan, had fallen into decay. Its prin-
cipal, a man of loveable character, was incapable of
keeping order. The scholarship of the school had
therefore for some time been declining until, though
it still had several hundred pupils, it was of diminish-
ing value to the university and the town. The super-
intendent of schools consulted President Angell. He
advised that the kindly principal be nominally
retained, but that Miss Freeman be appointed pre-
ceptress and left to smooth out the difficulties of the
situation in whatever way her tact could devise.
Thither she accordingly went in September, 1877;

SCHOOL-TEACHING 79

and a month later, on the resignation of another
teacher, she secured a position for her sister Ella as
the head of a neighboring grammar school. The
contest for authority in her own school was at first
sharp. The leader of the organized turbulence was
a young man of about her own years ; for she was only
twenty-two, slight, and in feeble health. Within a
week she had turned him out of school and did not
readmit him until he had made public apology.
Within two months all friction had disappeared, the
standard of scholarship was raised, teachers and
pupils were alike friendly. She had won regard from
the people of Saginaw, and at the end of the year a
hundred dollars of additional salary was gratuitously
voted her. I have talked with pupils of that school,
who cannot comprehend how anything less than
magic could in a few weeks have changed so rude
a company as themselves into sweet-natured and
diligent students.

But this time of sunny peacemaking was a season
of anguish for herself. The health of her sister in
New York still failed. Stella, the youngest of the
family, was regarded by all as its choicest member.
Her starry beauty was remarked everywhere. She
wrote delightfully in prose and verse, was a capital
story-teller, witty, studious, high-minded, less stormy
in temper than Alice, and up to her fifteenth year
apparently in vigorous health. Then the family

80 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

weakness showed itself. An attack of fever settled
in her lungs and could not be dislodged. Alice nursed
her through the first summer vacation after she left
college, and expected the trouble to disappear. It
did not, however; consumption declared itself, and
for two years fears and hopes chased one another
perplexingly. In the autumn of 1877 doctors pro-
nounced the illness dangerous, and began to talk of
a change of climate. All these distresses, too, were
complicated with financial troubles. The lumber en-
tanglement, which I have mentioned before as drag-
ging the family down, had gone from bad to worse,
until Dr. Freeman believed he could best protect his
creditors by giving up to them his home and all his
property. This occurred in November, 1877, just as
Alice and Ella had begun their teaching in Saginaw.
The two girls speedily set about plans of relief.
Their joint salaries amounted to eleven hundred dol-
lars, and there were hopes of increasing this a little
by private pupils. They hired and furnished a house,
and at Christmas had the entire family settled in
Saginaw. The expenses of a loved invalid are always
heavy, and it was not easy to meet them in the midst
of school problems. But the father soon began prac-
tice as a physician, the mother took a teacher or two
to board, and the son found a place in a store. All
had brave hearts. Throughout the winter the family
was happy in one another and in a common care.

SCHOOL-TEACHING 81

By summer Stella was so much revived that Ella was
able to marry, and the brother to enter the Medical
School of the University of Michigan. But as the
second winter approached, the fair prospects dark-
ened; and Alice, who had been called to Wellesley
again in December, 1878, — this time in Greek, —
felt that she must once more decline. The beautiful
sufferer lingered till Spring, but died on June 20, 1879,
at the age of eighteen. No other grief of Mrs.
Palmer's life equalled this. Stella was five years
younger than she and had been much in her charge.
She loved her as her own child and also as one
whom she thought superior to herself. She dreamed
of one day sending her to college, and of their becom-
ing ultimately associated in some common work.
No death had hitherto come near her, and this one
made all which subsequently came seem slight. As
she herself lay dying, I heard her murmur Stella's
name.

It was well to leave Saginaw now. A change of
surroundings was equally necessary for health and
for work. Dr. Freeman's practice, too, was increas-
ing, and the family was once more on its feet. Her
brother had been sent to college ; her surviving sister
was married and gone to her own home. On herself
a third call to Wellesley was pressed, a call of a
higher kind than before. She had been in corre-
spondence about it for several months, putting the

82 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

proposal aside at first because she would not leave
her sister. By that sister's death she was sorrowfully
set free. In July, 1879, when she was twenty-four,
she became the head of the department of history at
Wellesley College.

I suppose I must give a few poignant glimpses into
the two years' life in Saginaw, years which began
in gladness and ran into continually deeper tragedy.
Without them Miss Freeman cannot be known.
She was a hardened optimist, and because of her
cheerful courage she appeared to many like a
favorite of fortune on whom good things regularly
fell. Fortunate indeed she was, but chiefly in her
power of discovering a soul of good in things evil.
Hope in her view is —

The paramount duty that Heaven lays
For its own honor on man's suffering heart.

Yet I must let it be seen that she had her full share
of hardships and was abundantly acquainted with
grief. Moods of despondency came to her as truly
as to others, and she did not hesitate to express them.
I have purposely included several such utterances
among her letters. Bijt she was not absorbed or
misled by them. She went straight on. General
Grant remarks, in his " Memoirs," that all soldiers
are frightened about equally on going into battle,
but that there is a mighty difference in the way they
behave under fear. She had a sensitive heart, and

SCHOOL-TEACHING 83

to feel her humanity we must see it quiver. But she
put her mind elsewhere than in her moods, and
these soon took their suitable place. To duty she
gave herself gladly, counting it the voice of a friend,
and in its exhilarating companionship she found a
way through even physical ills. Her " radiance "
was therefore no product of ignorance, but of a
deeper insight into things human and divine. She
often quoted some lines of Emerson's which well
describe her own mode of meeting good and ill;
only she understood them as expressing no mere
Stoicism but the Christian's joyous acceptance of a
complex and hallowed world : —

Let me go where'er I will,

I hear a sky-born music still.

It sounds from all things old,

It sounds from all things young;

From all that 's fair, from all that's foul,

Peals out a cheerful song.

It is not only in the rose,

It is not only in the bird,

Not only where the rainbow glows,

Nor in the song of woman heard;

But in the darkest, meanest things,

There alway, alway, something sings.

LETTERS

Across the table sits my queenly sister, reading a
letter with flushing cheeks. She came a week ago
to take a position which the superintendent obtained

84 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

for her in a grammar school. Is n't everybody kind
to me ? And we have had such talks about those at
home whom I have n't seen in so long. Our room is
bright and cozy, and we hope to have a happy year.
Just now my hands are so full of monthly examina-
tions and reports that my usual labors in mathematics
and the sciences seem too trivial to mention.

How sunny and restful your letter sounds to-day,
when I am so tired. Friday night my school closes
for two weeks. That evening my father, mother,
and Stella arrive. The week after, the State Teachers'
Association meets here for three days. During those
days and in the mean time I shall be driven with
work, as I have five classes which will be examined
for the benefit of these visitors. Then in the vacation
I must get my family settled. I have already rented
a house, but probably it will be no light matter to
put it in order for the winter.

To you I don't mind explaining what would other-
wise seem a little mysterious in our arrangements.
Two months ago Papa made an assignment of every-
thing to his creditors. When this business was over,
it seemed best that there should be an immediate
change. One of Papa's lungs has failed, and Stella
is no better. So I am to have them here with me.
Fred will come soon. I am very anxious that he
should enter the Medical School next fall. And

SCHOOl^-TEACHING 85

Ella must have next year for study and rest, as she
will undoubtedly be married the year after.

Forgive me, then, for having written so little. I
have been in constant communication with the
assignee and have had much to do for Ella. My
duties, too, at the school are so numerous that I go
every morning at eight o'clock and for the last two
weeks have remained until dark. It has been damp,
and I have not felt very well. But won't it be pleasant
for us to be together again at Christmas ? The first
time I have seen the family in the winter since 1871.
Please say nothing about these perplexities of mine.
I don't want anybody to think a troubled thought
of me. I really don't need such thoughts. I can see
a little way ahead now, and am quite willing to trust
and work.

The spring-time is without and within. It has
come early this year, and how beautiful ! Yesterday
Ella and Stella and I went out walking as the sun
was rising. The air seems like April's, and the sun-
shine like June's, while here and there a bird sings
cheerily from branches just swelling and reddening.
We walked about three miles, and came home
perfectly ravenous.

You see by this how much better Stella is.* Since
coming here she has greatly improved, indeed is
better now than she has been since last summer.

86 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Next term she is going to study, if she continues so
strong. She plans to go to the school each morning
for practice in writing. I am still doubtful about it.
But she is so restless, she must try at any rate. This
morning we all went to church together, for the first
time in so long that it seems like going away back
or away onward, I hardly know which.

It is only a fortnight since our wedding and you
are looking forward to your own. Naturally I have
been thinking a good deal about the two. I wish we
could have the whole afternoon for a talk. But do
keep happy, and grow wise in keeping another happy.
Be unselfish, dear, and learn to control the woman's
restless hunger. Let it only make you more sympa-
thetic and strong. Sympathy is the great want of
the human heart, man's heart as well as woman's.
You must teach him how to sympathize in the broad
sense with you, and to let you sympathize with him,
in little as well as great things. Then you will feel
always that you are bound up together, that every-
thing you each do is full of the other. That, I think,
must be being married ; and that, you know, is n't
the work of an hour, or a year. Then, no matter what
comes, you can never be really separated. Shake-
speare understood this when he wrote his sonnets.

Afl this week my thoughts have been following

SCHOOL-TEACHING 87

you, this busy week of organizing our high school.
I want you here, these white still nights. Last night
I sat till late, looking out into the beauty of the
moonlight and thinking of friends. I was going over
the years that are past and wondered why so many
things, buried long ago with the dead years, rise up
and sit down beside me in the silence. There are
days when every air blows from a distance. This
house is haunted nowadays. Sometimes I long for
one of those moments that are gone more than for all
that the days to come hold in their close-shut hands.

I am hungry to hear from you. I seem so shut-in
this year. Home and school life keep me so occupied
that I have hardly been able to give a moment to
anything outside, except when too tired to do any-
thing but think. These times have come oftener than
they used to. Just now I am oppressed with the
passing days. Do you know, lately I have come to
want to paint flowers and all sorts of lovely things,
to sketch faces that are pleasant to me. You have
genius for this. I should have to learn. Had I better
try ? I do so want to be putting bright bits of beauty
into and out of my life. Stella is having a high fever
this afternoon. I must go to her.

Sometimes in these days it seems as if the solid
earth were giving way under my feet, as if all my

88 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

present and future were slipping out of my control.
And then I turn instinctively to my past. I suppose
that is what God gives us a past for, to stand on. We
are sure now that we can keep Stella only a little
while. The fight has been so long we hardly know
how to give it up. But we cannot expect her to endure
through the summer. She grows whiter and weaker
every day, suffering intensely. Our light is dying
out. Pray the good God to lighten and warm this
dark home, where we watch her going farther away
from our helpless help.

These days are solemnly sweet. I make no plans
in them. Recently I have written Mr. Durant about
the state of things here, but have not had his reply.
You see it is extremely doubtful whether I go to
Wellesley. Nothing is clear before me now. I am
very tired. The year has worn upon me, in school
and at home. But I think I shall come through with-
out breaking down. If I do go to Wellesley, I have
promised Mr. Durant to go at the earliest moment.
He wants me to do some studying there, and has
been urging me to resign here. The position certainly
requires much preparation, and I must consult about
methods and books.

School ended last week; and though my work is
not quite finished, vacation is begun. I am not alto-

SCHOOL-TEACHING 89

gether well — nothing serious, only too tired to sleep,
and sometimes too heartsick to want to rest. I am
going to leave Saginaw just as soon as I can get
ready, next week I think. Before going to Wellesley
I shall spend a few days in Windsor. I have n't been
there in three years, and must stay a little with those
who knew us when we were children. It will do me
good to rest in the old places among the hills. But
I go soon to Wellesley, because I must see what books
are in the library there. I have to arrange my topics
and make my references, as the classes use no text-
books. Forgive me for not writing you more. The
silence of death has fallen upon my life. It is a very
quiet time within, but O Lucy, Lucy ! — Well dear,
good-by. Send me a letter out of your beautiful life
as soon as you can. Kiss me, Lucy, and hold me
close to keep my heart from breaking.

VI

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY

WELLESLEY COLLEGE, to which Miss Freeman
went in 1879, and with which she was connected for
the next eight years, was opened in 1875 by Henry
Fowle Durant. He had graduated at Harvard Col-
lege in 1841, entered the law in Boston, and soon
won eminence and a fortune by his masterly conduct
of difficult cases in the courts. Slight in stature and
imperious in will, he took pleasure in contest and
easily made strong friends and strong enemies.
There was about him great personal charm. He had
read much, had an excellent library, wrote with
refinement in prose and verse, and was something
of a connoisseur in the arts. Near the close of his
brilliant and contentious life he lost a son of remark-
able promise. The shock turned his attention to
religious matters. Into these he threw himself with
his customary ardor, retiring from the law. To rid
himself of self-seeking and to make his property and
his remaining years a benefit to his fellow men became
his passion. These purposes were warmly seconded
by his wife. It was their belief that a community
could be helped most by education, and they deter-

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 91

mined to express their affection for their son by
founding a college. On examining the provision for
education already made in our Eastern States, they
concluded that women were in greater need than men.
Vassar had just been opened and was the only con-
siderable college for girls, though of colleges from
which women were excluded New England had more
than a dozen. By enlarging the opportunities for
women Mr. and Mrs. Durant thought they could
best accomplish their generous purpose. Their home
was at Wellesley, fifteen miles west of Boston, where
they had an estate of more than three hundred acres,
made up of plains, hills, woods, and the shores of
Lake Waban. This they now deeded to trustees as
the site of the new college, — Mr. Durant directing,
however, that neither it nor any of its buildings
should be called by his name, nor should any portrait
of himself be hung within its walls.

It will be seen that there was religious ardor in the
founding of Wellesley, and a spirit of sacrifice, quali-
ties without which few endowments undertaken for
the public good prove permanently strong. At the
beginning the fervor of a young convert may have
led Mr. Durant to give undue prominence to the
conscious religious motive; but he kept all doors
open for the extensive changes which time has proved
wise, and in his holiest injunctions there was great
sagacity. The college was to be Christian, but no

92 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

sect was to have a majority of its trustees. All its
officials were to be devout persons, but not bound
by any form of subscription. With clear under-
standing of the native tendencies of womanhood, the
motto, " Not to be ministered unto but to minister "
was selected for the college seal. Morning and even-
ing there were twenty-minute periods of " Silent
Time," when each girl must be alone in her room, and
devotions would be natural, though not enforced. Re-
quired prayers twice a day were led by the teachers,
Sunday services by invited ministers, and there were
daily Bible classes. From among the professors
advisers were appointed for each class, who kept
regular office hours and were accessible for consulta-
tion on any subject. It must be remembered that
in those days parents were little inclined to separate
their daughters from family influence, and that many
features of the home had to be provided if girls were
to be drawn to the higher education.

It is to Mr. Durant's credit that at a time when
such things were less regarded than at present he laid
great stress on the beauty of surroundings, spending
much on his grounds, on paintings and photographs,
on music, on whatever might ennoble the young
through unconscious influence. And while he very
properly sought to develop Christian character in his
college, it was not his purpose to substitute this for
intellectual discipline. Determined that the stand-

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 93

ard of scholarship should ultimately be the highest,
he attached little weight to text-books, made gener-
ous provision for laboratories and library, and
favored methods of teaching which were quite in
advance of his time. Of course such purposes could
not be realized at once. In every beginning there is
chaos. He was himself but slenderly acquainted with
educational matters, and there were few highly
trained women to form his faculty. Women he pre-
ferred as professors, because hitherto they had not
been allowed to teach in colleges; and girls were
little likely to become students if told that there was
something in their sex which debarred them from
high scientific standing.

It was to a college thus nobly conceived that Alice
Freeman came, a college for which all her previous
training had prepared her and which was planned
to embody most of her own ideals. Yet perhaps it is
not unfair to say that, while Mr. Durant was its
founder, she in her brief term was its builder. The
ideas were his; but they were hers too, and they
waited for her to disclose the modes of so applying
them as to give them power over the future. Had the
aim of the college been simply scholastic, she might
have been stifled. Had it been careless of scholar-
ship, she would not have remained. But seeking as
it did to fashion beautiful women, she identified her-
self with it enthusiastically, in herself embodied its

94 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

type, and by degrees constructed a Wellesley spirit
in which helpfulness, modesty, intelligence, and
grace are recognized ingredients.

The attention of Mr. Durant was first drawn to her
by President Angell. Of the circumstances he gives
the following account, not knowing apparently how
long the negotiations were in progress, and probably
fixing the date a year later than it really was: —

"When Mr. Durant founded Wellesley College
so few women had received college education that he
experienced some difficulty in finding suitable candi-
dates for the professorial chairs. On my recom-
mendation he appointed three or four Michigan
graduates, who proved so satisfactory that he wrote
to me to inform him at any time when we graduated
such a woman as I thought he ought to appoint. It
so happened that I had occasion, I think in the year
1879, to visit the high school in East Saginaw, of
which Miss Freeman was then principal. I attended
a class in English Literature which she was teaching.
The class was composed of boys of from fifteen to
eighteen years of age, in whom one would perhaps
hardly expect much enthusiasm for the great masters
of English literature. But it was soon apparent that
she had those boys, as she always had her classes,
completely under her control and largely filled with
her own enthusiasm. They showed that at their
homes they had been carefully and lovingly reading

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 95

some of the great masterpieces and were ready to
discuss them with intelligence and zest. I have never
witnessed finer work of the kind with a class of that
sort. When I returned home, I wrote to Mr. Durant
that he must appoint the woman whose remarkable
work I had been witnessing, that he could not afford
to let her slip out of his hand. Whether my letter led
to his decision to call her to Wellesley I do not know.
But he did call her, and she went. The rest is matter
of history."

Of her success as a teacher it is hardly necessary
to speak. The interest which she aroused in history
is well known. She gave it a freshness and vitality
which have become traditional at Wellesley, and so
organized her department that it has remained one
of the most influential in the college. But where the
time was found for study and planning I cannot dis-
cover. She must have lived at a killing pace. From
her note-books I find that her regular work con-
sisted of fifteen hours a week of history, a daily Bible
class, charge of a portion of the domestic work,
office hours each day as adviser to the senior class,
and the oversight of her assistant in history. To this
she added once a week throughout the winter a pub-
lic lecture on some historical subject. All this work,
too, was carried on in the grief and bodily weakness
caused by her sister's death. In the same note-books
I find the following fragmentary entries : —

96 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

" Jan. 8. Faculty meeting after Chapel. A lovely
day. I walked to the village and was out of doors an
hour. Wrote letters and corrected examination
papers. Spent an hour or more over new books on
the Bible. It's so hard to do neglected work! —
Jan. 10. Enthusiastic sections this morning, and his-
tory classes this afternoon unusually good. Fanny W.
went to French table and Mary P. took her place at
mine. I am going to have the girls change their seats
once a week. Read German with my reading circle.
— Jan. 13. Everything has gone wrong to-day. My
Roman history did not do well this morning. Worked
in the Library on references. Could not get exercise,
but had a little sleep this afternoon. Must improve
at once in health and work. — Jan. 19. A beautiful
day, but full of disappointments and downright
badness. When shall I conquer my besetting sins?
Wasted the evening with Emily, Marion, Helen, and
Jane."

Evidently too much work had been assigned her,
an error perhaps inevitable in the early years of a
college. Mr. Durant's fortune was limited, while the
demands upon it were not. Out of his own pocket
he met whatever bills were in excess of the income
from tuition, and this was fixed at a low figure. For
many years, until other donors could be found, there
was hard work and small pay. Then too the practice
of attending not only to the studies of students, but

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 97

also to their character and manners is, as the Eng-
lish universities have learned, a time-taking business.
An enormous amount of Miss Freeman's time was
spent in interviews with girls, interviews often of
lifelong benefit to the girl herself and certainly the
most efficient means of creating an understanding
of what the college should be ; but more than anything
else these ate up her time and strength. We now
know that not much administrative work can safely
be put on a teacher. But this was not so well under-
stood at that time, and it is not strange that one who
had aptitudes in both directions should have been
overstrained.

In its initial steps an undertaking usually requires
a single strong hand. Mr. Durant was naturally
autocratic, and during the few years of his life he
ruled Wellesley absolutely, within and without. He
had, it is true, appointed Miss Ada L. Howard pres-
ident; but her duties as an executive officer were
rather nominal than real ; neither his disposition, her
health, nor her previous training allowing her much
power. Even the Board of Trustees exercised little
real control. Mr. Durant held all the authority, and
his keen eye early discovered the force of Miss
Freeman. In her first year he said to one of the
trustees, " You see that little dark-eyed girl ? She
will be the next president of Wellesley." Though
frequently they did not agree, her independence did

98 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

not alienate him, but appeared to make him trust
her the more. He loved the strong. Often he sought
her out, talked with her on historical and literary
matters, explored her ideas of teaching, and bore
from her opposition which others feared to give.
The prophecy of her future rise which I have just
quoted was made shortly after the following clash.

Mr. Durant had called her attention to a member
of the senior class as one "who was not a Chris-
tian," and directed Miss Freeman to go and talk with
her " about her soul." He was a man already past
fifty, accustomed to be obeyed, and she a girl of
twenty-four; but she flatly refused. He demanded
her reasons. She explained how disrespectful such
direct assaults on one's personality are, and how
generally ineffective. She said that to do such a
thing would be contrary to her whole mode of inter-
course with students and might well shake their con-
fidence in her. In short, she would not do it. He in-
sisted, and for a time she feared the resistance would
cost her her place. But after the painful affair was
over he never referred to it again, except by treating
her with ever-increasing trust. On her side, too,
admiration for Mr. Durant held firm through all
their differences, and ceased only with her life.

Yet this incident will indicate some of the per-
plexities which filled the early years when, under
its masterful leader, the hastily gathered college was

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 99

learning to organize itself. Such things cost blood.
So did the immense load of her teaching. So did the
penetrating personal influence of which she was so
lavish. So did her longing for her dead sister. So did
the efforts she was making to help her brother
through college. Such a person confines herself to no
single care, nor accepts ease when exhaustion requires
it; but, hiding her inner bleedings from herself as
well as from others, carries for their sake a group of
interwoven anxieties.

Such at least was Miss Freeman's prodigality at
this time. Later she learned, though she always
found it difficult, a larger generosity. Never sturdy,
she came to Wellesley in broken health and had no
time to repair it. The cough which she took from
Windsor to Ann Arbor grew constantly more racking,
until in February, 1880, a hemorrhage of the lungs
occurred. It was the busiest time of the year, and
she at first persuaded Dr. Bowditch to let her con-
tinue work until the spring recess. But on fuller
examination he ordered her off at once, advising
Southern France, and saying that probably she had
but six months to live. She turned to Windsor, and
on the way through New York consulted Dr. Willard
Parker. I find a note in which she has recorded, " Dr.
Parker tells me I can live if I have character and
courage enough." He made her feel the recklessness
of ways of living which she had previously thought

100 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

necessary ; he sent her to the open air, to exercises in
breathing, to hygiene, food, and care. She went to
the old farm and took herself resolutely in hand.
By isolation, energy, and healthful surroundings,
she refitted herself so that she was able to return to
Wellesley in April, after the spring recess, and to
carry her full work until the end of the term. The
summer brought further invigoration. Thus at the
very outset of her career she was seemingly crippled ;
but accepting the disaster in her usual optimistic
way, she drew from it such knowledge of the laws of
health as turned her into a vigorous woman. When
she was examined eight years later the lesion had
entirely disappeared, nor did it ever return.

But the unorganized conditions at Wellesley
proved dangerous to others beside herself. Mr.
Durant was slowly sinking throughout 1880 and
1881, and in October of the latter year he died.
About the same time Miss Howard's feeble health
altogether gave way and compelled her to resign.
A meeting of the Trustees was held on November 15,
and Miss Freeman was appointed vice-president,
but acting president for the year. Though she was
the youngest professor then in service, and so far as
I can learn the youngest that has ever been ap-
pointed there, she had already so proved her power
that the judgment of the Faculty went with that of
the Trustees. Being unwilling to withdraw altogether

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 101

from her courses in history, she continued a portion
of her teaching for a time, but also entered imme-
diately on her executive work.

When the surprising election was communicated
to Miss Freeman, only a few hours could be allowed
her for deliberation. The following account of how
she spent those hours is furnished by a former
Wellesley teacher and confirmed from an indepen-
dent source : " When the question of accepting the
presidency was presented to her for immediate deci-
sion, she took her horse and drove away quite alone
over quiet country roads, so deep in thought that
she noticed nothing about her until she found herself
miles away, somewhere beyond South Framingham.
When most young women would have consumed the
time in asking advice of older persons whose expe-
rience would have been of little service, she, like
St. Paul, conferred not with flesh and blood, but
sought the solitary place and communed with her
own soul."

I have already shown the necessarily disturbed
condition of the college in these early years. There
were now fears of trouble from the more than usually
animated senior class. They had intimations of the
election almost as soon as Miss Freeman learned it
herself, and were much elated over the prospect of
being ruled by a president but little older than them-
selves. When Miss Freeman returned to her rooms,

102 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

she sent for this class. They came in a body, filling
with their merry presence all her chairs, tables, and
floor. She told them she had called them together
because she needed their advice. She had been asked
that day to become acting president of Wellesley.
She was too young for the office. Indeed, its duties
were too heavy for any one. If she must meet them
alone, she would have to decline. But it had occurred
to her that perhaps they would be willing to take part
with her, looking after the order of the college them-
selves, and leaving her free for general administra-
tion. If they were ready to undertake this, she
thought she might accept. Of course the response
was hearty. They voted themselves her assistants
on the spot, and difficult indeed it was for any mem-
ber of the three lower classes to stray from the
straight path that year. I once asked Mrs. Palmer
how she managed to survive the severities of a first
presidential year, and she answered that she could
not have done it if she had not had the help of the
seniors. Of the instantaneous resourcefulness which
secured her that help she said nothing. This I have
learned since her death from a member of the class.

LETTERS

Clara D. has just been in my room, all excited
over Jacob and Esau. "Jacob was such a selfish
wretch to steal that birthright." She delights in get-

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 103

ting herself wrought up, and I decidedly disapprove
it. She tires her friends, and I am careful not to let
her draw upon my strength unduly. In fact it is my
principle here not to be intimate with any of the
girls or to let them waste much of my time. Unless
you are careful in this great family, all your time
goes uselessly. You accomplish nothing. I think
Mr. Durant expects his teachers to give themselves
boundlessly to the girls; but I can't do that this
year even if I don't "make them adore me," as he
says I must. It is a good thing for my health to be
unpopular enough to be let alone, and I shan't try
to be anything else. What do you think of that ?

I don't know what to do about a watch. Our reci-
tations are partly lectures, partly notes, and partly
questions. So I must have some guide in time, and
none is provided here. Fifty dollars will get me as
good a one as I shall ever need. But I am not paid
until October. Perhaps I can get along until then.
Only there are F.'s college expenses. Mother, could
you meet those bills at present and let me send the
money later?

Nobody is so much what she ought to be as a good
girl, if only people would let her alone. One of the
freshmen has just left me after an hour of eager talk.
She has a wonderfully bright, attractive mind, sensi-

104 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

tive but timid, afraid lest her "sins are too stultifying
to leave enough soul to be worth saving." How I like
to talk of these things with such girls, so honest and
simple, so unwilling to run any risk of shirking duty
or failing of the truth ! If we could only trust God
and lead natural, simple lives ! This child's mind is
full of what men — Presbyterians of Albany — have
been telling her about God's ways, and therefore of
much that is both unreasonable and hopeless. But we
have had a good hour, and she sees that a religious
life does n't consist in feeling either great sorrow for
sin or great exaltation and rapture over forgiveness.
How patient God is with us all ! I wonder at it more
and more, when he has so much to tell, and we such
slowness in understanding.

I have just sent the girls out of my room, telling
them they must give me a chance to write a birthday
letter to my father. The truth is, an individual girl
is a lovely and bewitching creature, but five hundred
come to be a trifle — just a trifle — tiresome once in
a long time. As old age comes on, I am afraid I shall
grow homesick. Certainly I have never wished so
much to be at home as this last year. Don't you
think it would be nice to settle down somewhere and
enjoy life awhile? When shall we begin? When
Christmas comes I am going home. I really can't
stay away longer. But remember I am very well

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 105

this year, and all things here seem harmonious and
prosperous. God keep them so!

It is "Silent Time," and all the house is still. I
will write to you instead of reading my Bible. I have
just come from one of the little talks I am giving on
Fridays. For two evenings my recitation room has
been so crowded that the girls have stood in the cor-
ridor as far as they could hear. Now they have asked
me to go up to the large lecture room. This talk
about my "lectures " makes me feel cheap. But
to-night I promised to go there for the next time. I
was speaking on Dante, and several of the teachers
came. Next week the subject is Savonarola. We are
arousing some interest in history. There's need
enough. You can't think how discouraged I some-
times am.

I am spending these holidays at home and find
them like a pleasant dream, full of little house-talks,
of neighbors dropping in, of rides and drives and
long walks, and here and there a touch of business.
One morning was taken up by a gentleman who
insisted on my writing an English history! He will
give me two years to do it. The publishers will make
any terms I may name. A bright little woman has a
book that she wishes me "to edit in order to insure
its sale." What a queer world it is ! And the same

106 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

day good Mrs. O. comes to get me to drive six miles
to her Industrial School. But a college friend is also
here for the day, and he gives her five dollars for her
school in order to have my company for the afternoon.
She seems pleased, he satisfied, and my family dis-
cover how much half a day of my presence is worth.

Your letter finds me in the hospital, where I am
shut in with the sunshine, and going to make a care-
ful study of my health. Last Saturday, after an
unusually busy week, I found myself exhausted. I
am ashamed of being so tired. So I came down
here to rest. The breath of Spring is all about me as
I write, for the room is full of flowers sent by my
"rosebud garden of girls " ! Their constant thought-
fulness sweetens life at every step, and I feel rich in
their love, whether it chances to find expression in
roses and lilies or not.

And you want me to be with you ? Well, I will be
somewhere, some when, somehow. Only it can't be
this vacation. But you are simply an old splendid to
ask me. Give me advice about a new suit. I saw in
Boston a dress of almost invisible green. It occurred
to me it would be pretty for spring and fall days,
with a bonnet of the same, brightened with a dash
of color. One could wear with it creamy tea roses,
or apple blossoms, or scarlet poppies in the fall.
Kate says, "Your hair and eyes are just the same

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 107

color. Get a dress to match." Annie thinks dark
brown or deep wine color would be better. Now
what do you, my artist, advise ?

But I must stop. Annie will fill up the envelope.
It makes me cough to write. I had a slight hem-
orrhage last week, and so must rest. Everybody
— especially Mr. Durant and Miss Howard — is
angelic. Mr. D. came and talked with me a long
time on Thursday. He said, " You shall have two
assistants next year. I'll do anything in the world
if you'll only get well, Miss Freeman."

Since I found myself in the novel condition of
being really ill two months ago, I have been in great
doubt much of the time about what I ought to do.
I need rest and quiet more than anything else. I have
given up much of my extra work, and still have kept
as much as possible. During these few days of plea-
sant weather I have grown better rapidly.

Dr. Bowditch, the authority on lung diseases in
Boston, whom I consulted last week, told me that
with great caution I might remain here awhile, un-
less I grow worse. It is very bad for the college and
for me to give up now, unless continuing the respon-
sibility is entirely unsafe. So I conclude to wait until
the spring vacation. If then I do not feel equal to
the next term's work, they offer leave of absence
until September. The first two weeks in April I

108 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

shall spend on the old farm in Southern New York,
where I shall have fresh air and quiet to my heart's
content. Through this rest I hope to be better than
ever before.

So you see, sir, I am provided for and have no oc-
casion to accept your generous offer. But I thank
you for it. It will be something good to remember.
In case of emergency I shall feel that I may go to you
for advice and assistance. I cannot afford to break
down now. There is so much to do before I can
rightfully take the rest that I had hoped not to need
for years yet. But I have been very foolish to over-
work so here, and shall steadfastly refuse to do
double work hereafter. Give my hearty good wishes
to your wife and daughter.

I have succeeded in avoiding fresh colds and am
charmed that I have had no drawbacks of any kind.
Don't you people worry over iny "going back."
Miss Howard and I have the matter well in hand.
She is delightful to me, and I am to have no further
responsibility in the house. I have arranged for only
five recitations and lectures a week next term. I shall
not try to prove to any one that I have done more
hard thinking in the last three years on the subject of
my health — and to more purpose also — than they
imagine. But my physicians know that I could not
otherwise have rallied from the Saginaw experience.

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 109

It hurts me to have those I love fretted more than is
necessary.

Mother, I never was in quite such perplexity before.
Formerly when a teacher was sick, either in hospital
or absent from College, the salary went on. Last
summer the Trustees passed a law that when a
teacher was away her salary should be stopped.
Four of us have been overworked and have had to
leave. We are all in the same situation, to us en-
tirely unexpected. The policy may not be generous,
considering how teachers work here; but there is
nothing to be done. I am out of a month's salary,
besides all the expense of medicine, doctors, and
traveling. I am troubled, especially at not finding
it out until so late. Mr. Durant is sick again, Miss
Howard tired and away, and nothing is done on
time in matters of business.

When I found this out yesterday, I wrote C., tell-
ing him I wanted fifty dollars of the hundred he owes
me sent at once to F., that if he could n't send it all
immediately, he must send what he could next week,
If he does this, and F. can spare fifteen of it to pay
you what I borrowed, I shall be much relieved. If
he does n't, F. must run in debt, and I will send
enough to meet all the bills at the next payment the
first of June. This being sick all winter has cer-
tainly taken two hundred dollars out of my pocket,

110 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

and I am afraid it will be five hundred before all is
ended. I am glad you were able to make that good
investment; but don't put out any more at present,
for I have set my heart on your coming East and
Papa's visiting his relations in the West this summer.
Fifty dollars apiece pays traveling expenses, and I
am going to set apart that from my salary for May
and June for this specific purpose. I don't want
father to sell his horse and carriage so long as he
stays in Saginaw. Work presses, and I stop.

Mr. Durant preached to-day. If only you could
have heard him, all of you! It seems as if some
great strange thing had happened, and we must
speak and walk softly — as when some one has died.
There was an atmosphere of sacredness about it all.
It is enough to break one's heart to see his grand white
head among these hundreds of girls, and hear him
plead with them for "noble, white, unselfish woman-
hood ; " to hear him tell of his hope and happiness
in them, and his longing that "the blood of Jesus
Christ should cleanse them from all sin." That was
his text. I never heard and never shall hear anything
quite like it for clear logic and tender appeal. This
is the second time he has preached.

I heard a man at church this morning whose voice
called back the dear old Windsor days. I wonder

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 111

how the sermons which I used to think so good there
would impress me now! This was a half hour of
absolute commonplace. The man appeared to be a
devoted soul who really wished to be useful, but who
had n't an idea in his head of what people are think-
ing about. If such people would only buy farms and
withdraw from trying to be leaders ! Religious peo-
ple now feel that they have no right to waste time in
hearing pious nothings uttered by men who will not
take the trouble to do any thinking. I fancy that now-
adays many stay away from church conscientiously.

Last Tuesday everything passed off successfully,
I believe; though I could not judge very well, as I
had to stand at the reception-room door and "re-
ceive." But I did not enjoy the address. It does
seem impossible for a man to come here and speak
in a sensible way to sensible women. As usual, our
orator talked in a superior way about woman's na-
ture and condition, health, etc. He said he "knew
the depths of a woman's heart." If I live a thousand
years, I hope I may never make that remark about
any man. I wait eagerly for the time when men will
take our ability to study for granted, and will tell
us what we want to hear about other subjects.

These are but trifles, dear mother, I send for your
festival. Since I have only you for my little girl,

112 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I lavish my playthings upon you. I had planned
something different. But the truth is I am having
a hard time to get through the year. Not that I am
sick, but I am very busy with doing "last things,'*
and very anxious about Mr. Durant's health. Just
now I am writing my annual report for the Trustees'
meeting next week. There are to be radical changes,
some overturnings, and it is a question how some
things will end. But I do not propose to worry.

And so it is your birthday, you bride-to-be ! Here 's
a kiss for your forehead, and one for each of your
blue eyes and sweet lips — even though they are
now all another's. But on a birthday you belong
especially to "the family." Happy may you be when
you reach a birthday which doubles these years!
It 's so beautiful out in the future for you ; the onward
path looks so safe and sweet. God keep you always
glad and warm in the loving arms, both heavenly and
earthly ! I had a letter to-night from that happy wife
E., and ever since have been thinking how blessed
a thing it is to be the centre and soul of a real home,
always certain that a tender heart holds you close.
That certainly includes all that is best in life.

As for myself I am beginning to get into the col-
lege a little more, and I like what I have exceedingly.
But I don't feel at all satisfied with what I am doing
nor with the distribution of my time. What with

'TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 113

domestic work, corridor care, section meetings, and
all the unexpected breaks that will come, I seem
to accomplish very little; and there is so much of
everything to be done here before things are as
they ought to be ! Perhaps each day's little doing
counts. I hope so. One must be patient, and these
girls are certainly beautiful.

This is so depressing a week that everything goes
hard. We have just come from a meeting in the
chapel, which is draped in the heaviest mourning.
The desk on the platform has in front Garfield's
picture, life* size, surrounded by heavy black folds.
All around the platform and gallery draperies of
black and white are festooned. A large flag hangs
at half-mast from the organ. But I can't make it
seem possible that he is really dead. The students
have had a mass meeting and nominated the presi-
dent of each class as a committee to write a letter of
sympathy to Mrs. Garfield. Last night the Faculty
had a meeting and appointed me to write her also, ex-
pressing their united sorrow.

But we are in greater trouble over Mr. Durant
than words can tell. He has been growing worse.
Yesterday there was a council of four physicians
from Boston and one from Philadelphia. Their
decision was unanimous that there is little chance
of recovery. They told Mrs. Duraut ; and when Mr.

114 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER*

Durant asked what they had said, she told him.
In the afternoon, "in case he should become uncon-
scious," he left his final instructions about the col-
lege — " Christ's College," he called it. All we can
do now is to wait and carry on the college work.

All goes smoothly. Miss Howard has been in bed
three days this week, and is not well at any time;
nor have we enough teachers to meet the extra de-
mands made by the new students. But my depart-
ment is well organized, is running regularly, and it
is understood that this year I do the work of only one.
Several much-needed reforms in college arrange-
ments have been brought about, reforms over which
I have been very anxious. Altogether there is much
that is hopeful in the outlook and my seven Ann
Arbor friends here make the place a kind of home
for me.

MY DEAR MRS. FREEMAN :

When Alice told me at the dinner table how busy
she had been this morning and was likely to be this
afternoon, I begged the privilege of writing her home-
letter this week. She consented, on condition of my
assuring you that she gives up the pleasant duty not
because she is not well or does not long to do it, but
simply because she has such a multitude of things to
attend to. I may say that I have been happily sur-

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 115

prised to find how good her health has been through-
out this term. She has learned to take care of herself
much better than formerly, and I am greatly en-
couraged. There seem to have been good reasons for
her breaking down last Spring, which do not now
exist, and I have much hope that she will keep well
all the year.

You will not wonder at her finding no time to
write to-day when I tell you the great news. At a
meeting of the Executive Committee of the Board of
Trustees held this morning, Miss Alice E. Freeman
was appointed Vice-President of Wellesley College
for the remainder of the year ! Won't you be aston-
ished? There will be astonishment here to-night
when the announcement is made. I think nobody
has a suspicion of the design of the Trustees, but I
am equally sure that there will be universal delight.
Alice herself had not a hint of the matter till Tuesday.
She was undecided at first, and did not accept until
she had talked the matter over with Miss Howard,
Mrs. Durant, and the Executive Committee, so that
there is a perfect understanding. She is wonderfully
fitted for the place, which is virtually that of Presi-
dent. Miss Howard goes away at once for rest,
leaving Alice in sole charge. You probably know
that Miss Howard's health is still feeble. A good
deal of the time she is unable to attend to the duties
of her position. Alice is not to be subordinate to her,

116 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

but equal except in name. The Trustees have said,
"Do whatever you think best, Miss Freeman, and
we will stand by you.'* She is to retain charge of the
department of history, but is to have a second as-
sistant and to meet no classes except the seniors,
and them only twice a week during the second half
of the year. She prefers to do a little teaching for
the sake of contact with the girls.

Oh! I know she will succeed splendidly. Mr.
Durant loved and trusted her perfectly. All the
Trustees have entire confidence in her, and there is
nobody else here whom the girls so universally ad-
mire and love. We Ann Arbor people are very proud.
We are hoping Alice will not need to work harder
than she has been working, though of course her re-
sponsibility will be much heavier. But she will have
such hearty cooperation on all sides that I think she
will not find the burden too great. I feel quite exalted
to be the first to tell you of this honor, but you can
hardly be prouder of Alice than you have already
had reason to be.

(Later.) I wish Alice's father and mother could
have been in the chapel to-night when, before
evening prayers, the chairman of our Executive
Committee made the announcement of her promo-
tion. His words, so fervent and strong, were such
as Mr. Durant himself might have used. To me it
will always be a memorable occasion. But I must

TEACHING AT WELLESLEY 117

lose no time in sending off this letter with its great
news. M. O. M.

I have been writing letters every moment to-day,
none of them personal you may be sure, all on col-
lege business, and still I go to bed with twenty-three
left for to-morrow. When I am fairly started in my
new work I hope to keep more nearly even. To-
morrow I am invited to lunch with one of the Trustees,
and all are as kind and cordial as possible. The
girls and teachers too are so loyal and thoughtful that
I am full of hope, even though I can never see my
way a single day ahead. There is a great deal in
it all that is pleasant, but during the last two months
I have been obliged to get a good many things —
warm things for winter and a few nice things suit-
able for "the acting president." You see I have
to wear good clothes all the time now to compen-
sate for my undignified appearance. How much I
would give for a few gray hairs ! I am glad you are
glad at the promotion, and thatSaginaw people are
pleased. Warm letters come from many friends.

vn

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY

IN speaking of Mrs. Palmer just after her death
President Eliot said : "As we look back on the chief
events of her too short career, the first thing that
strikes us is its originality at every stage; she was
in the best sense a pioneer all through her life. When
she went to the University of Michigan as a student,
she was one of a small band of young women, ven-
turing with motives of intellectual ambition into a
state university which had just been opened to
women. At twenty-two years of age she was already
principal of a high school in Michigan. At twenty-
four she took a professorship of history in a new
college for women where all the officers and teachers
were women — a pioneer work indeed. At twenty-
six she became president of that novel college, at a
time when its worth had not yet been demonstrated.
Indeed its policy was then held by many to be of
doubtful soundness, and its financial future ex-
tremely difficult. What courage and devotion these
successive acts required ! Her work at Wellesley was
creation, not imitation ; and it was work done in the
face of doubts, criticisms, and prophecies of evil."

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 119

How original Miss Freeman was at Wellesley
becomes plainer when we consider how short a time
she was there. Her administration lasted but six
years. Beginning with the so-called vice-presidency
in November, 1881, it ended in December, 1887.
During this brief term Miss Freeman created a
Wellesley type which has proved durable. This and
the following chapters set forth the means by which
this was accomplished. Briefly, it may be said that
she fashioned the college after her own image. But
what were her policies and methods ? Where lay her
difficulties ? By what successive changes in organiza-
tion, studies, finances, equipment, did she so sud-
denly transform a hastily gathered and somewhat
distrusted body of teachers and pupils into the firm-
built college which, when she left it, commanded
universal respect ? These questions can be answered
only imperfectly, partly because of that very original-
ity which lends a sort of mystery to all her doings,
partly on account of the absence of early, documents.
In that confused time there were no financial state-
ments, no records of the Faculty, no published
reports of the president. Miss Freeman, it is true,
at the close of her first year printed a president's
report ; but funds for the purpose seem to have been
lacking, and the experiment was not repeated. Her
letters seldom refer to her own affairs, but are full
of those of the one to whom she writes. My acquaint-

120 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

ance with either her or the college did not begin till
near the close of her term. For the most part, there-
fore, I am obliged to depend on catalogues and on
the memories of her early associates.

Pioneer as Miss Freeman was at Wellesley, her
work there would have been impossible if the way
had not been prepared by Mr. Durant. On his broad
foundations she built. His large designs were hers
also. He had selected her from the Faculty as the
one whose temper was most congenial to his own.
In the preceding chapter I have called attention to
his dread of routine, his aversion to text-books, his
approval of laboratory methods, original research,
and whatever arouses individual activity. This
forceful spirit shaped the plan of his college. In his
catalogue for 1877 he announces that the conditions
for entrance will be steadily raised. Then, after
prescribing the studies of the freshman year, — and
prescription was at that time the practice in all col-
leges except Harvard, — he proposes to throw open
to sophomores seven different elective courses, or
groups of studies, among which a student may
choose. Each of these courses contains also within
its coherent group large elements of election. And
this is true even of that " general course " which
he states is " for many probably the most desirable."
Few colleges in the country had at that time a pro-
gramme so liberal. He provides for graduate work,

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 121

allows students not candidates for a degree to enter
as specials, and offers to mature women who have
been teaching for several years — "teacher spe-
cials"— the privilege of following for brief periods
whatever studies they please. He encourages athlet-
ics too, introduces rowing, and requires of every girl
at least an hour a day of exercise in the open air;
declaring that "when the women of the country
unite in observing, protesting against, and reforming
the fatal causes which destroy girls* health, the
calumny that woman's mind and woman's body are
too frail to bear the pursuit of knowledge will perish
with other forgotten prejudices."

In spite, however, of these far-sighted provisions,
Wellesley College when Mr. Durant died was by
no means what he or Miss Freeman desired it to be.
In fact it existed but in germ. There had been no
time to elaborate its organization. In the last two
years Mr. Durant was sinking, as was also his lieu-
tenant, Miss Howard ; and in the previous years his
own mind had passed through great changes in
trying to grasp the notion of his proposed college.
Originally he schemed it as a female seminary, after
the pattern of Mt. Holyoke. For this a charter was
obtained in 1870. In 1873 the name was changed to
Wellesley College. In 1875 its vast building was
opened and its first students were admitted. In 1877
the right to grant degrees was obtained. Not till 1879

122 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

did it graduate a class, or begin graduate work; not
till 1880 did it drop its preparatory department. It
was this rough sketch of a college, rather than the
finished thing, which the girl-president received
from the dying founder; a sketch truly noble, but
needing correction, completion, and — as prelimi-
nary to these — a general setting in order. My
presentation of her work at Wellesley will be divided
into two parts: in the first I group her more im-
portant administrative measures, in the second I
attempt some analysis of her personal influence.

Certain features of Mr. Durant's scheme, certain
of its best features, were not developed. During
Miss Freeman's administration the policy of elective
studies was everywhere a novelty, and one which,
being not yet understood, stirred strong opposition.
It involved also grave financial difficulties in execu-
tion. It was an experimental method, which only a
strong college could afford to practice extensively.
Pressed upon a college not yet firmly organized, it
tended to increase debt and disorder, its stimulating
methods being easily mistaken for absence of
restraint. Under election, too, more work is thrown
on the Faculty, a class being broken up into small
groups, each requiring a different treatment. More
teachers are called for, and a larger fund for paying
them than is necessary under the prescribed system.
Wellesley was just starting. Its students, its teachers,

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 123

were ill prepared for their strange work, and it had
no endowment beyond grounds, buildings, and
library. For such a college conservatism was wise.
Naturally inclined by years and disposition to pro-
gressive methods, Miss Freeman on the whole held
steadily to simplicity, order, solidity of organization,
avoiding whatever might lead to confusion, loose-
ness, experiment, and expense. Almost imper-
ceptibly Mr. Durant's seven elective courses con-
tracted themselves to two : the General Classical
Course, leading to the B. A. degree — substantially
as he had planned it — containing, besides its litera-
ture and history, a good dose of mathematics and
science, a prescribed freshman year, and about a
third of its later studies elective; while a course
requiring no Greek at entrance, and having through-
out a larger proportion of science, received the B. S.
For music, as in Mr. Durant's time, no specific
degree was given. A student was allowed to dis-
tribute music throughout either of the other two
regular courses, thus expanding them to five years,
and receiving a degree accordingly. Fuller develop-
ment of the elective system was — in my judgment
wisely — deferred to a later time. Nor can I learn
that the three courses leading to advanced honors,
which Mr. Durant planned, were ever considerably
elected. Probably in that early day few students were
suitably prepared.

124 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

But if Miss Freeman accepted a policy of restraint
in the matter of election and did not carry individual
option much beyond the point where Mr. Durant
left it, she did so only in order that she might the
more thoroughly consolidate instruction, adjust it
to her limited means, and give the college a firmer
hold on the community. The conditions for entrance
were repeatedly raised and their exact enforcement
watched. Greek was first required at entrance in
1881. English literature and composition were soon
after added, with history, both ancient and modern.
Special students were not admitted unless able to
pass examinations. Greater care was used in setting
and marking examination papers. In 1880 it had
been decided to accept the certificates of certain
schools as entitling their graduates to enter college
without examination. This system has many advan-
tages ; but if the schools are not frequently inspected
and held to a rigid standard, certification becomes
a paper requirement and scholarship sinks. Miss
Freeman systematized inspection and drew up a
certificate which, while laying little stress on opinions
about the student's competence, demanded the pre-
cise facts of her training during the immediately
preceding years. Similar care in the conduct of
examinations was enforced throughout the college.
There was a general rise in standards. Many in-
formants tell me that the most marked change pro-

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 125

duced by Miss Freeman's coming was this new
atmosphere of exactitude, work, and insistence on
what a college should mean, succeeding a sort of
boarding-school looseness. The girls no longer
played at going to college, — they really went.

How to obtain properly qualified students was a
difficult problem. College-fitting schools for boys
had long been common and excellent, but of course
there could be nothing of the kind for girls until
girls' colleges also came into being. In only a few
high schools were girls allowed to join classes which
fitted boys for college. On account of this lack of
schools Mr. Durant was obliged to open a prepara-
tory department and train his candidates from the
start. For several years these students largely out-
numbered those in the college. But in the year that
Miss Freeman became vice-president the prepara-
tory department was cut off and the independent fit-
ting school of Dana Hall was established in Wellesley.
To founding more such feeders Miss Freeman ad-
dressed herself, and her work in this direction was
one of her greatest services to the college. In 1884
an important auxiliary school was opened in Phila-
delphia. Before the end of her presidency she had
organized fifteen others in different parts of the
country, officered for the most part by Wellesley
graduates, and with courses so shaped by the college
that their graduates could safely enter it on certifi-

126 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

cate. Perhaps this plan of connecting her college
with a special group of schools was suggested to her
by the example of Michigan.

One of Miss Freeman's chief anxieties was the
problem of housing. To it she refers in her first
report, and it never ceased to trouble her. Only so
many students could be received as college buildings
would hold; for the village of Wellesley, half a mile
distant, was small and at that time ill provided with
boarding-houses. Oil account of scanty accommoda-
tions more than a hundred desirable candidates were
turned away each year. Indeed the number of stu-
dents increased less than two hundred during the
whole of Miss Freeman's presidency, rising gradu-
ally from four hundred and fifty to six hundred and
twenty-five, as places for them could be found. The
original building, four hundred and seventy-five feet
long, held three hundred ; Stone Hall, given by Mrs.
Stone in 1880, taking another hundred. In 1881 Mr.
Simpson gave a cottage with accommodations for
twenty-five, and in the same year Mr. and Mrs.
Durant fitted up a second cottage for half as many
more. But when all were filled girls still clamored for
entrance, and larger numbers would have benefited
the college itself. While every college is in large meas-
ure a charity school and does not expect its students
to pay for what they get, up to a limit this loss dimin-
ishes as students increase. A certain cost for plant

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 127

is incurred in any case, and this may with advan-
tage be widely distributed. While Miss Freeman had
no financial responsibility — all funds being under
the exclusive control of Mrs. Durant — she was
naturally anxious to make the income more nearly
equal the expense and also to extend the influence
of Wellesley.

In 1885, when the decennial of the college arrived,
she started a general subscription for a new hall,
Norumbega, which was opened in the following
year. But it was one of the disappointments of her
administration that the public could not be brought
at once to the support of Wellesley. Few gifts came
from outside the circle of Mr. Durant 's friends,
though within that circle there were generous and dis-
criminating givers. Professor Eben Norton Horsford,
in particular, endowed the library, provided the
means for granting professors sabbatical years, and in
general looked after the comfort of students, teachers,
and president with singular tact and devotion. But
a larger income was necessary; and Miss Freeman,
though feeling it well to keep the charges as low as
possible and so to make the college accessible to poor
students, was compelled to raise the fee for board
and tuition in 1882 from two hundred and fifty dol-
lars to two hundred and seventy-five, and again in
1884 to three hundred. Aids to students, however,
were also increased. In her presidency the number

128 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

of scholarships was doubled, as were too the gifts
of the Students' Aid Society, a band of ladies organ-
ized for the private assistance of those in need. To
commemorate Miss Freeman after she became Mrs.
Palmer, Mrs. Durant in 1888 erected a new hall and
named it Freeman Cottage.

But if Miss Freeman was thus hampered by the
inadequate preparation of students and by meagre
financial resources, she became only the more deter-
mined and ingenious in providing her girls the utmost
still possible in scholarship, health, character, and
enjoyment. Where little money is, there often
appears a kind of compensatory devotion. Perhaps
too the limitation of numbers was for another reason
not altogether a loss. It enabled her to choose from
those who applied the intellectually and physically
strong, giving her a compact body of earnest stu-
dents who counted themselves exceptionally fortu-
nate. Such a company is excellent material for the
building of a college. In it hard work, loyalty, unity
of ideals are more easily secured. All students of that
day knew one another's names and were known by
their president. Friendships were more intimate,
the life of the college more intense, romance was easy.

As regards teachers Miss Freeman's policy was to
spend on them the largest possible percentage of
income. She wished to see their number increase
and their hours of work diminish. She herself had

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 129

had serious experience in the debilitating effects of
many required hours. She knew that the most stim-
ulating teaching cannot be had from those who lack
leisure. Of course salaries were small ; but she con-
trived to secure half a dozen capital scholars in her
chief chairs and to assure herself that each person
appointed to an inferior post had some distinctive
merit. She understood that the deepest claim on her
as an appointer came from the students, that they
be assured of excellent teaching; and that the claim
of individual teachers was only secondary, that they
be kept in comfortable places. She did not hesitate
therefore kindly to drop a tolerable instructor so
soon as a superior appeared. Her estimate of per-
sons was pretty accurate, and she left a much
stronger Faculty than she found.

That Faculty was built up out of departmental
groups; that is, all teachers dealing with a common
subject were banded together under a head-pro-
fessor and constituted a single unit. This professor
arranged the work of the department and was re-
sponsible for its quality to the president. Miss Free-
man developed and dignified the departments. They
appear for the first time in her second catalogue,
their organized meetings beginning in the preceding
year. They then numbered twelve, but had risen
to sixteen when she retired. In earlier days teachers
of every rank met in the not very important faculty

130 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

meetings, to discuss such details of government or
instruction as were not already settled by Mr. Du-
rant. After the formation of departments Miss
Freeman left to the general Faculty matters of dis-
cipline and of routine administration, but more and
more turned to the heads of departments for con-
sultation on questions of educational policy. In this
way almost insensibly there grew up the body known
as the Academic Council, which has continued to
this day. Seeking stability as she everywhere did,
she found she could best send her ideas through the
college by coming close to the permanent leaders.
For similar reasons, standing committees were formed
to take charge of such weighty interests as entrance
examinations, preparatory schools, graduate in-
struction, the library, the choice of studies; this
last committee being a veritable board of advisers,
to which every girl must submit her schedule of
electives before she could register it as her own.

The library had its collections doubled and its
cataloguing systematized. Much was done for the
laboratories, for which she makes an appeal in
her first report. She refitted the gymnasium, intro-
ducing into it the Sargent system of apparatus, of
measurements, and health records, and putting at
its head an enthusiastic director of physical culture.
Competitive contests were forbidden, but such co-
operative sports as bring health, enjoyment, and

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 131

grace were earnestly encouraged. Attention was paid
to the voices of the students, and an officer was
appointed to train them in quiet and expressive
reading. Ventilation and hygiene were insisted on.
During her time the college passed through no seri-
ous illness. Perhaps she took more care of the health
of the students through being herself a physician's
daughter.

Providing thus for the internal well-being of the
college, she soon began to study its relations with
the outside world. In those days Wellesley was
more isolated than at present. Its charming hills
and woods were little known. Mr. and Mrs. Durant
had loved modesty more than advertising, and their
college came into existence without that noise which
has latterly been thought appropriate to the birth of
universities. So quiet an infancy pleased Miss Free-
man ; but as the college grew, she resolved to bring
it into closer connection with other colleges and with
the community around. This attempt made one
of the distinctive features of her administration. Of
course her attractive personality and winning speech
opened all doors, and in the interest of Wellesley
she accepted invitations for public addresses up to
the limits of her strength. In different parts of the
country she helped to found Wellesley clubs. To
Wellesley she invited whatever notable person visited
the neighboring cities. In her last year more than

132 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

fifty public lectures were given there, and half as
many concerts. Only one vacancy occurred in the
Board of Trustees in her time, but she reconstituted
the subordinate board, the Board of Visitors, and
packed it with experts, who brought criticism and
encouragement to the various departments. To
enlarge the social life of teachers and students, she
held frequent receptions and introduced to Wellesley
the men and women of Cambridge and Boston. Into
the society of those cities she herself entered. From
Harvard she sometimes borrowed temporary teachers
and with that university she soon established rela-
tions which a certain dislike on Mr. Durant's part
for his alma mater had prevented from being earlier
formed.

Such then were some of the constructive methods
by which a scholarly, united, and admired college
was rapidly built up. Seeking to raise the rank of
Wellesley until it should equal that of any New
England college, she found herself hampered by
lack of fitting schools, by a loose system of admission
on certificate, by lack of accommodation in college
buildings for suitable numbers, and by consequent
lack of funds. She found her teachers too few, badly
chosen and badly paid, burdened with excessive
routine work, and needing to be more solidly organ-
ized into departments. She found meagre labora-
tories and library, no provision for physical training,

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 133

and little connection between the college and the
learned and social world outside. At the close of
her administration these deficiencies had disap-
peared, without leaving debt behind.

This truly creative work was accomplished by
substantially the methods here described. There
is nothing striking about them. They cannot be
turned into attractive reading. Hearing of Miss
Freeman's brilliant administration, we do not natu-
rally think of measures so homespun and pains-
taking. For that reason I have lingered long on this
first part of my account, trying to explain the dry pro-
fessional technicalities over which her young years
were spent. But I imagine most of us will hardly
be interested in watching the work of an architect's
office. The result alone engages us. All beauty,
however, is grounded in such technicalities, and
originality consists in finding the beauty there.
That at least was the type of her originality. She
was no revolutionist, but out of almost any humdrum
and disheartening conditions she would contrive
to evolve life. Or do I wrong her in speaking of
contrivance? Was it rather that her believing and
creative mind saw nothing of what others counted
humdrum and disheartening, being altogether oc-
cupied with the ideal hid within ? It may be so.
She took her duties lightly and once exclaimed to
the president of another college, "Is n't it fun to be

134 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

a president ! " When I applied to her faithful secre-
tary for information about the perplexities of these
opening years, I received the following reply : "The
thought of Miss Freeman's feeling any perplexity in
her position at Wellesley seems strange to me, who
knew so well the inner life of the office. Underneath
her cheerfulness, her keen sense of humor, her
thoughtfulness for others, her joy in all that makes
life lovely, there ran a current of confidence and un-
hesitating trust in her Heavenly Father. She conse-
quently never appeared perplexed. The presidency
of Wellesley was not a difficult position for her. In
each emergency she saw by intuition the right course
to pursue." But that she, almost the first of woman
presidents and with little in the past for a guide,
should have possessed this instinctive discernment
and, youthful and ardent though she was, should
have known that it is the plodding path which
leads to glory, must, I suppose, indicate in her
something like genius.

Academic Portrait

vni

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY (CONTINUED)

THE account of Miss Freeman's career at Wellesley
thus far given is obviously unfair and incomplete :
unfair because it assumes that the policies described
were altogether hers, regardless of the wise and
loyal cooperation of her fellow trustees and profes-
sors. Yet this unfairness is so inevitable that it will
readily be pardoned. We are obliged to say that
Wellington won Waterloo, though we know how
helpless he would have been without the courage of
the undistinguished soldier. Miss Freeman always
declared that the rapid rise of Wellesley was due to
a multitude of causes and persons. Of course it
was, a multitude directed by herself. No president
ever had better helpers; nor they, one whom it was
better worth while to help.

But in calling my account incomplete I speak of
something of larger consequence, and to repairing
the omission I devote this entire chapter; for the
administrative measures just recounted could have
had no such effect as actually followed if they had not
been supported throughout by an extraordinary
personal influence. Personality and policies together

136 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

composed Miss Freeman's power, spirituality and
mechanics, the two supplemental, each of little worth
without the other. To considering some aspects of
that pervasive personal influence I now turn.

In the first place Miss Freeman came into very
close contact with her students. She lived among
them, until her last year having her private rooms
in immediate connection with her business offices in
the great building. Even when she removed to
quieter quarters in Norumbega Cottage, she dined
every day with thirty girls and talked with double that
number. Each morning she held office hours, when
any student could consult her on any subject. But
she did not shut her door at other times, and a large
part of every day was given to these interviews. In
that small office the bent of many a life has been
determined. At that time there was no dean. All
the care of the students fell upon her. By some means
she managed to meet most of them soon after their
arrival and to turn their faces in the right direction.
It was done incidentally, with few words, and quite
as a matter of course. A student writes : —

"When I entered Wellesley, I arrived late in the
afternoon and was shown to my room. Soon a bell
rang, and I tried to find the dining room. I went
down to the first floor and wandered to the south
door. There, by good luck, stood Miss Freeman,
looking out over the lake. Of course she came to me

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 137

at once, asked who I was, said the college would
be good to me, and then took me to the dining room,
talking in her easy cordial fashion all the way, and
found a place for me at one of the tables. I wish
I could remember the things she said. I only recall
the strong impression of her kindness."

When a girl had once been spoken to, however
briefly, her face and name were fixed on a memory
where each incident of her subsequent career found
its place beside the original record. A super-
intendent of education sends me the following
instance : —

"Once after she had been speaking in my city,
she asked me to stand beside her at a reception. As
the Wellesley graduates came forward to greet her
— there were about eighty of them — she said some-
thing to each which showed that she knew her.
Some she called by their first names; others she
asked about their work, their families, or whether
they had succeeded in plans about which they had
evidently consulted her. The looks of pleased sur-
prise which flashed over the faces of those girls I
cannot forget. They revealed to me something of
Miss Freeman's rich and radiant life. For though she
seemed unconscious of doing anything unusual, and
for her I suppose it was usual, her own face reflected
the happiness of the girls and showed a serene joy
in creating that happiness."

138 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Probably she had a natural aptitude for such re-
membrance, but she cultivated it also. An eminent
journalist writes: "I recall a memorable conversa-
tion I once had with her. She had told me a little
of the means she took in getting and keeping in
mind the names of her many hundred Wellesley
girls, and I said, 'That is something I never could
do.' 'Oh yes, you could,' she replied, 'if you had to.
It is simply that you never had to do it. Whatever
we have to do we can always do.' This quiet con-
fidence in the ability to do what needs to be done
seems to ine one of the secrets of her power. She
leaned on her necessities, instead of letting herself be
broken by them ; and that simple disclosure of her
method has greatly added to the power of my life."

But in her close contact with students, playful
though it often was, she kept her dignity and her
easy power of command. In a previous chapter I
have shown how important for the young college
was the almost despotic control exercised by Mr.
Durant. This she inherited, and in her own way
maintained. She tempered it, it is true, with singular
sweetness, usually capturing love and approval be-
fore obedience. But nevertheless, her will was law.
Trustees, Faculty, and students alike gave it a pretty
free course. All felt in her what Kent saw in Lear:
"You have that in your countenance which I would
fain call master." This was well understood and,

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 139

becoming a tradition, tended to perpetuate itself. A
gentleman tells me that when he attended a small New
England College he found some of the regulations
galling. On remonstrating he was told, "You had
better go to Wellesley, where, whenever the little
president raises her hand, the whole college hurries
to obey." Yet her authority did not rest on bare will;
on knowledge rather, on sanity, poise, and a large
way of handling business.

An incidental greatness charactered
Her unconsidered ways.

An instructive anecdote has been sent me : "There
came to Wellesley for a period of special study a
woman who had already spent several years in teach-
ing. She was nervous, vain, and touchy, easily find-
ing in whatever was said or looked some covert dis-
paragement of herself. As she was complaining one
day of some recent rudeness, Miss Freeman said,
'Why not be superior to these things and let them go
unregarded ? You will soon find you have nothing
to regard/ 'Miss Freeman,' retorted Miss S., 'I
wonder how you would like to be insulted/ Miss
Freeman drew herself up with splendid dignity:
'Miss S., there is no one living who could insult me.'
And she was right. Nobody would have dared do
so. But had they attempted it, they would have
found her altogether beyond their reach."

140 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I cannot discover that the universal worship
marred in any respect her simplicity or transferred
her attention from the matter in hand to herself.
She took it lightly, as a part of the nature of things.
Love was inherently good, and people should prac-
tice it. I think she would have been disturbed by its
absence. Being given, she did not dwell upon it as
due to herself, but chiefly noticed the new worth it
gave the giver. Nobody could claim love as by right.
I have often heard her quote George Herbert's
noble line, —

Love is a present for a mighty king.

When she came upon a specific case of adoration
it humbled her.

Having, then, such intimacy with the students and
at the same time such exaltation above them, she
was in the best position to call on them for aid in any
exigency. And this she constantly did, letting them
understand that the college depended on them for its
well-being, and that they were to cooperate with her
in keeping it sound. Nobody was allowed to forget
its great motto. One writes : "During my last winter
an epidemic of hysteria seized the college, chiefly
the freshmen. There were frequent screams over
trifles, and gossip ran riot. Miss Freeman called us
seniors together and said she held us responsible for
the continuance of such folly. What did we older

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 141

girls mean by allowing an atmosphere where such
things were possible? It stopped."

Or again : "An incident showed me how she kept
individual students in mind and heart. There came
to college from my city an eccentric, lawless girl,
J. L. Before her lawlessness was fully known
Miss Freeman was much concerned about her,
hearing (she always did hear or see everything) that
J. was ostracized and unhappy. There were many
Kentucky girls in college then, but I was the oldest
of them. Miss Freeman accordingly sent for me,
told me frankly that she was worried about J.'s
future, and said that if she was to be made into a
worthy student the girls must help. She asked me
to bring the other Kentucky girls into friendly rela-
tions with J. and try to change her attitude. We did
try, but it was useless. J. was an anarchist from
birth, and soon left college."

One morning she announced at prayers that she
had turned " some girl " out of college, and did n't
wish to hear of her again. Lately, when silly rumors
had been flying about the grounds and she had asked
students where they got them, they had said, "Some
girl told me," That girl was gone. Hereafter they
need n't believe anything they heard from a person
without a name. One winter an attempt was made
to blackmail an important person connected with
the college. Because it was bravely resisted, serious

142 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

scandal was threatened. Before the papers spoke,
Miss Freeman called her girls together, told them
briefly the dastardly story, declared it false, and said
she should rely on them to refuse to speak of it either
among themselves or to others. The newspapers
thundered, but Wellesley noticed nothing. It was
strangely absorbed in its own pursuits.

This cooperative method was even applied to the
single student. When a girl brought her a request
which she could not grant, she seldom gave it an
immediate refusal; she set before her petitioner the
considerations involved, obliged her to do her own
thinking, and finally to suggest as of herself the very
settlement which Miss Freeman approved. Amusing
stories are reported of girls who came to ask for
something, and went away delighted to have obtained
the opposite.

One of them says: "In the spring of my senior
year I had an invitation to spend the holidays in
Washington, and my family strongly urged me to
arrange the visit. Overjoyed, I went to Miss Free-
man to obtain permission to leave college several
days before the vacation. She was very warm,
envying me the prospect of seeing the Capitol for
the first time. She promised to ask the Faculty for
permission and to state to them how great the op-
portunity for me was. But she inquired how many
examinations and written exercises I should miss,

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 143

incidentally calling attention to the fact that the
professors would have to give me special ones in
the following term. Gradually I felt the disadvan-
tage of this irregularity. Still, there was Wash-
ington! And I asked if she herself would not be
tempted to go? Indeed she would, she said, but
college work was the nearest, the first, business. A
Washington invitation might come again; a senior
year in college, never. So, quite as if my own judg-
ment had been my guide, I decided that I did not
want to go to Washington. A little later, when the
office door had closed, I stopped on the stairs and
asked myself if this was the same person who had
passed there half an hour before, and what had
induced me to give up the coveted journey when
there was no hint on Miss Freeman's part of com-
pulsion, much less of refusal."

College presidents are sometimes suspected by
students of prevarication and falsehood, and cer-
tainly they are often called on to look at the same
subject from different points of view. But her girls
knew that though she might guide them skilfully,
she persistently sought their interest. Her heart was
with them. She was an obstinate believer in their
worth. In later life, as we walked the streets of a
foreign city, she would often be seized in passing by
some exclamatory girl ; and when after too long delay
I disengaged her and asked who this tiresome person

144 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

was, she pretty regularly answered, "Why, don't you
know Mary X ? She was one of the most remarkable
girls we ever graduated from Wellesley." They all
were, and the hardy faith carried both her and them
through many difficulties. One of them shall de-
scribe the process: —

"A great reason for her strange control of girls
was, I think, that she always seized on some good
point in a girl's character, emphasized that, and
made the girl feel that she must bring the whole up
to the level of this. She took for granted, or appeared
to do so, the girl's good intentions. Many a time I
have heard her say with the greatest apparent confi-
dence to some wavering girl, 'Of course you could n't
do anything in this matter that is untrue or unlady-
like. That would be quite out of keeping with you.'
And the wavering girl was promptly strengthened in
her determination to do the right thing at any cost.^
The same method was worked in intellectual ways.
My friend Miss M. returned to Wellesley after a
four years' absence, hoping to complete her course
in a year. The advanced requirements made this
difficult. She talked over the situation with Miss
Freeman, feeling greatly discouraged before the
interview. Miss Freeman sketched out the hard
necessary work and said, 'Now, Miss M., that is
what I call a stiff schedule ; but with your habits it is
possible enough.' Miss M. went out determined not
to disappoint her confidence, and she did not."

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 145

Sometimes there was no direct appeal to a better
nature in the one who sought her aid, but a kind of
transmission of force occurred through mere contact.
Virtue went out from her. In a letter received
shortly after her death I read : —

"Mrs. Palmer had a strange effect on me. When
I saw her, I felt- as if I could do things that I never
dreamed of before. Even now, whenever I think of
her, I have a sense of dignity in my life. I don't know
what it is. It seems as if her appreciation of the
worth of things puts a spirit into me that carries me
along until the next time I think of her. I should n't
care to go on in a world in which she had n't been."

Probably the ennobling atmosphere which seemed
thus to radiate from her presence was in some mea-
sure connected with her religious faith. She believed
that conscious fellowship with God is the foundation
of every strong life, the natural source from which all
must derive their power and their peace. Hers was a
dedicated soul. Mr. Durant had given the religious
tone to Wellesley. This she deepened, diversified,
and freed from artificiality. In the first year of her
presidency she reformed the methods of Bible study,
abolishing the daily classes to which no serious study
was given, and which seemed to her to encourage
sentimentality. Instead, she put into each year of
the curriculum two hours a week of examinable in-
struction. She organized a Christian Association at

146 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Wellesley, but refused to allow it to become affiliated
with organizations elsewhere, or to be patterned after
any narrow type. She turned it into a veritable col-
lege church, gathering into it devout souls of all sorts,
and those who longed to be devout, until its ample
organization embodied pretty fully the spiritual
aspirations of the place. To it she transferred her
own membership, and for the remainder of her life
she belonged to no other church.

I am not aware that she ever conducted chapel
services on Sunday, though she exercised much care
in selecting those who did. But every morning she
became the priestess of her household, regularly
taking charge of prayers, and delighting so to begin
the day. Attendance was then required. I doubt if
one student less would have been present had there
been no requisition. For all knew that prayer was
her supreme expression; they felt the solemn glow
and entered with her into a divine presence. Her
voice throbbed with ardor, insight, and self-efface-
ment. In simple language she spoke to God as one
who had known God; and of her girls as one who
understood their dreams, joys, and perplexities. I
have observed that persons naturally reserved some-
times express their inmost minds more easily in pub-
lic than in private. They are sheltered by the multi-
tude. It was so with her, who rarely referred to
religion in conversation. Her needy company set her

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 147

free. All felt her love and genuineness, and wondered
at the appropriateness of her words. It was com-
monly believed that Miss Freeman's Bible was not
the ordinary volume, for out of it came strange
chapters, extraordinarily fitted to whatever occasion
arose. Her familiarity with it was large, and from
that storehouse of spiritual experience she liked to
bring together passages from writers of different
times uttering a similar thought in unlike ways. The
morning assembly, too, she found a convenient occa-
sion for addressing the whole body of students on
matters of general consequence.

But there is danger in the religious temper. For
some persons the light of eternal things casts a shade
over the temporal. In view of what is abiding and
august, the passing interest is dulled. This danger
even besets those who are predominantly moral.
They become narrow, heedless of what cannot at
once be related to law; while momentary matters,
chance, facts, the mere happenings of our hurly-
burly world, do not joyously engage them. This is
the same as to say that such persons frequently lack
humor and spontaneity — yes, strongly marked in-
dividuality. Of course deficiencies quite as grave
are noticeable in those who follow their own vagrant
will and listen to the call of the instant. They are
soon found unimportant in the stress of serious
affairs. Yet their temperament forms a necessary

148 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

supplement to the profounder insights of the austere.
A saintly minister of my acquaintance on being asked
why he was going to Europe for the summer, wisely
answered, "To de-moralize myself." We queer
human creatures cannot fill out our full stature till
we harmonize within us contradictory attributes.

Such splendid contradictions shone in Miss
Freeman, giving her access to persons of every type
and imparting to herself perpetual freshness. Cus-
tom never staled her. It easily might, had not she
been she ; for she was called to set a woman's college
in order. I have shown how her administration
tended everywhere to solidity and respect for law;
how she herself was a prodigious force for righteous-
ness among her girls. Yet this seriousness was but
one aspect of her, and must straightway be offset in
any just estimate of her influence. For hers was essen-
tially a spontaneous and abounding nature. She
found her way to an important issue as often blindly
as through calculation. One cannot say too often
how impulsive she was, sportive, enchanted with
the shifting show, the swiftly varying expressions of
her face telling how eagerly she followed the flight of
things that cannot endure. One writes: "I doubt if
I ever knew any one who gave me so strong a feeling
of the pure joy of living." It was as good as a circus
to be with her, for something novel was always going
on. And this incessant regard for the small and

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 149

momentary was treated as altogether honorable, in
herself or in another. She was no dualist, no sepa-
rator of sacred and profane, of petty and profound.
All had significance and found their fitting place in
her responsive soul. "One flower, one tree, one
baby, one bird singing, or one little village would
move her to love and praise as surely as a garden, a
forest, a university, an orchestra, or a great city." I
never knew one who more fully, with William Blake,

Could see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower;

Hold infinity in the palm of the hand,
And eternity in an hour.

Or with one of her own favorite poets, Henry
Vaughan, could so —

Feel through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness.

Such exuberant many-sided life was of peculiar
consequence in the work to which she was called.
It was hers to set the pattern of a woman president
of a woman's college. In private life we prize woman
not merely for her priestly qualities, but quite as
much for her vivacity, swiftness of perception, ease
in being pleased, and interested acceptance of what
each moment brings. Should these fascinating fea-
tures of traditional womanhood be retained on her
entrance into official life, or should they be crowded

150 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

out by the proprieties, decorums, and conformities
to which woman is also prone ? Alice Freeman
showed which is the more admirable, which the more
influential too. She never sank her own variable
personality in the great official. She kept the child-
like in the larger mind. By thus remaining truly a
woman she protected womanliness among her stu-
dents. Through her, freedom and naturalness per-
vaded Wellesley. Bounteously original herself, she
fostered whatever special quality those about her
possessed and taught it to come forth with grace and
helpfulness. Girls are easily crushed or starved.
Nowhere is wealth of nature more important than in
their leader. Perhaps, too, respect for temperamental
differences was not at that time so generally prac-
tised as it happily is now.

Obviously, however, a great personality cannot
be cut up into sections and listed. I may seem to have
attempted something of the sort in successively set-
ting down these modes of her personal influence.
But that would be to disintegrate and falsify one
who through all her variety was always the same
beautiful whole. All I have desired is to trace a few
of the channels through which that curious influence
ran. Thus I have shown in what close contact with
her girls she lived, though preserving always her dis-
tinction and her power of instantaneous command;
how she summoned them to cooperate with her,

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 151

made them feel that it was their college no less than
hers, and called on them to keep it vigorous and
sweet; how in dealing with individuals she paid at-
tention to whatever was excellent in them and let
the poorer parts pretty much alone ; how she treated
them all as children of God who longed for a fuller
embodiment of Him in their daily lives; how she even
respected spontaneous nature and did not in the
interest of a strained spirituality repress the happy
waywardness of herself or her girls. But I am not
so simple as to suppose that by this summary I
have explained her, or that the methods here toil-
somely enumerated can be codified in the next hand-
book of pedagogics and used by any newly elected
president. Properly speaking, these are not methods
at all. They are merely her ways, the natural ex-
pressions of a unique human being who was not
afraid of herself or of obstacles, but ruled, loved,
planned, enjoyed, and build ed as best she could, with
little help from past experience and with little con-
sciousness of doing anything remarkable. Just nine
years after she entered the university as a student
she became president. When she retired, after her
extraordinary, brief, but durable success, she was
only a little older than the youngest college president
who has ever taken office elsewhere. The mysterious
power of characterful youth had more than counter-
balanced the deficient age. Long ago Isaiah remarked

152 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

that "a child may die an hundred years old ; but the
sinner being an hundred years old shall be accursed."
In this analysis of her work at Wellesley I have not
paused to relate events of her own life. In reality
there were none. Her life was merged in that of the
college. One of her days was much like another.
At Norumbega she took breakfast in her room,
selecting then the hymn and Scripture for the day.
Prayers followed at 8.30. Afterwards she attended
to her mail and held office hours for consultation
with students. These were usually prolonged through
the morning, so that she rarely returned to her rooms
at noon, unless to bring visitors, but took her luncheon
in the main building. Afternoons were occupied
with letters, callers, inspection of grounds, buildings,
or departments, with interviews with teachers and
parents, or with yet more students. Time too must
be found for the occasional meetings of Trustees and
Faculty, for seeing people in Boston, or for a public
address. She tried to dine at home. When she did,
she threw off all care and devoted herself more to
the girls at her table than to her food, telling amusing
stories and inciting those still better. After dinner
she would take part in the merriment which usually
preceded study hours. But quite as often she was
unable to return to Norumbega till ten or eleven
at night. Then she took a light lunch, read a
while, — by preference poetry, — and was soon in

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 153

bed. She was always a sound sleeper, and more
dependent on sleep than food.

Twice a year she tried to visit her parents in Michi-
gan, and usually succeeded in giving them a few
weeks. But having no dean to represent her at
Wellesley, she was much confined there and through-
out her presidency took only one considerable vaca-
tion. This was in 1884. In that year an important
International Conference on Education was held
in London, to which she was appointed one of three
American delegates. She had become much exhausted
with work, and was advised that a voyage would
invigorate her. In company with her father she saw
England for the first time, addressing the Conference
in a speech which Henry Sidgwick pronounced the
best given there (Life and Letters, p. 384), and after-
wards spending a few restful weeks at the English
Lakes. In all, she was absent from Wellesley two
months.

In 1887 Columbia University, in New York City,
at its centennial celebration, conferred on her the
degree of Doctor of Letters; Union University, at
its centennial in 1896, that of Doctor of Laws.
She became a Doctor of Philosophy at Michigan
in 1882. Since her death, in recognition of the work
described in this chapter, Wellesley graduates have
endowed their presidency with a fund which bears
her name.

154 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I add a few letters which have been sent me in
further illustration of her Wellesley ways.

LETTERS

It is impossible for the girls of later days, of more
perfect organization and more divided responsibil-
ity, to realize how in that early time the whole college
depended on this one personality. What she thought
and said and did was the heart and centre of what
the college thought and said and did. It would have
been dangerous for one person to have so much power
had not that person been Miss Freeman. What she
was is best proved by what the place became.
Through her administration Wellesley developed into
a fully equipped college, thoroughly organized and
efficiently conducted, known to all the world. How-
ever much the Wellesley ideal may have grown
through longer experience and wider opportunities,
we shall always owe to Miss Freeman the establish-
ment of the type.

How she worked that year of her vice-presidency !
Her interest in her own special department, that of
history, could not be given up. She had planned
a course for those brought that year to the college —
teacher specials — and she must see it through ;
and she did. But how she toiled to conquer those
old girls' diffidence, their previous lack of any and

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 155

every training ! How she labored to wake them up to
possibilities of study and research! How she strove
to impart to them her zeal and enthusiasm !

Her memory for names and faces was phenome-
nal. On my second visit to her office I volunteered
my name and was met with the quick response,
"Yes, I know." It was said that by the end of the
first week of the college year she knew every one of
her girls by name, and it was a pleasure to her to
recognize them at all times, within doors or without.

So blind she was to our shortcomings, so unerring
in finding the good that was in us ! Gentle, womanly,
responsive, and enthusiastic, with a genius for friend-
ship and affection, she has sent uncounted numbers
of us from her presence inspired to do the thing
which was at the highest limit of our powers. It
was her unshakable belief in the best side of our
natures that made her optimism inspiring. In the
heat of her intense idealism every objecting, hinder-
ing doubt was fused into a passion to do the work
she knew we could do. Who of us will ever forget
that flexible and endearing voice, or the beauty which
poured from her smile, look, and gesture ?

I had never been away from home until I went to
Wellesley, and I was desperately homesick. At noon

156 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

the second day I wandered after luncheon into the
centre and sat down on a stair by the palms. I wanted
to die. Just then a troop of people came toward me
in animated talk. One of them, a lady young and
beautiful, was speaking most eagerly. As they passed
me, she, without pausing in what she was saying,
turned and poured her kind eyes right into mine. I
felt a new life come in. It would be good to be any-
where, I thought, if she were there. The next morn-
ing I went to chapel. She was at the desk. I
whispered to my neighbor and learned that it was the
president. I was not homesick again.

On my way to Wellesley for the first time I put
myself under the care of Professor C. and went to
the college with her. She took me to her own sitting-
room, which she shared with Miss Freeman. The
burst of welcome from Miss Freeman for her friend
was irresistible and brought tears to my eyes. After
the first greetings were over, Miss Freeman turned in
her bright impulsive way to the little stranger, drew
me into the circle, and began to help me off with my
wraps. From the conversation, I gathered that she
had not been well enough to "go on" for a class-
mate's wedding and was eager to hear an account of
it from Miss C. But this did not check her service to
me. I was taken to her own bedroom, given fresh
towels, and cared for in every way. It was such

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 157

a gracious thing, that welcome of Miss Freeman at
such a time to a little stranger who might so easily
have been turned over to others! The rest of the
time I was at Wellesley (I left the following Novem-
ber, from illness) I saw Miss Freeman only at rare
intervals. That one brief, bright glimpse is my per-
manent remembrance of her.

At one of the Faculty meetings in the first years of
her presidency, when some grave academic questions
were being discussed without much prospect of being
brought to a conclusion, Miss Freeman was called
to the door and found there the housekeeper of
Dana Hall, who had insisted on seeing Miss Freeman.
She had a carriage waiting to take her to Dana Hall
to see the dress rehearsal of a French comedy which
was soon to be given. The humor of the situation
struck Miss Freeman. Returning to the room, she
announced to the assembled professors that she had
been called away on pressing business for an hour,
and requested one of them to take the chair. Glee-
fully she drove to Dana Hall, flashed in at the per-
formance, laughed steadily for half an hour, and
came back to the tired Faculty, blithe and breezy,
to swing the discussion on to a prompt conclusion.

Miss Freeman gave a series of talks to us seniors
who intended to teach. They were frank discussions

158 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

of the problems we should encounter and the right
ways of meeting them. Nowadays they would prob-
ably be "pedagogy," then they were simply "talks."
She always tried to show both sides of a picture. On
one occasion she told of a letter she had just received
from the head of a school, asking for a new teacher.
The former one had broken her contract and left
her position in the middle of the year, in order to be
married. After condemning the lack of honor shown,
and saying it was a case where "woman's citadel,
her affections, became her weakness," she went on
to speak of the requirements demanded of the new
candidate: she must be pleasing in person, highly
trained intellectually, socially and morally an all-
round example to her students, and would have a
salary of $600. "I wrote the man," she said, "that
at present we have no six-hundred-dollar angel."

When ill tidings came to a fellow student it eased
the aching hearts of her friends to know that Miss
Freeman had gone to her. And when it fell to the
president to report a piece of good fortune, one girl,
I am sure, will never forget the hearty handshake
and evident feeling with which she said, " I wanted
to tell you myself how glad I am for you."

That indefinable quality called "magnetism"
was in all her public utterances. People listened
spellbound, variously ascribing their interest to her

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 159

charm of manner or her brilliancy in command of
language. She never permitted the daily chapel exer-
cise to become irksome or distasteful. It meant much
to her personally, and she made it much to those who
listened. There are hymns which many old Wellesley
girls never read or sing but the remembrance of Miss
Freeman comes to them. The tenderness of the first
epistle of John has ever meant more to them because
she read from it so lovingly. Her simple, earnest
words of prayer went through the day's hard work
and smoothed its perplexities. If she were absent
from morning prayers, there was distinct disappoint-
ment. And following from day to day the varied
petitions which suited the needs of this large body of
students, one wondered that no stereotyped phrases
or even repetitions came from her lips.

The portrait in the art gallery at Wellesley, ideally
beautiful as it surely is, does not satisfy the old girls ;
it falls inevitably short of the remembrance of her,
cherished for many years.

The full-length portrait of Mrs. Palmer by Ab-
bott Thayer, which Professor Horsford presented to
Wellesley in 1890, embodies a beautiful ideal of purely
womanly womanhood. The painting might be
prized as a picture of the eternal feminine, and evi-
dently was painted as such con amore by the artist.
If it were simply of an artist's model, and one did

160 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

not know the name of the subject, the canvas would
be a charming one. The almost childlike expression
of ingenuous appeal, the great eyes and sensitive
mouth, the modesty of expression, full of dignity
nevertheless, as are also the virginal white robes, the
whole attitude as if of surprise and deprecation at
being thus painted as a personage, are in reality not
the artist's dream, the fancy sketch of a type of
feminine loveliness and sweetness, but the president
of Wellesley College herself, — and every inch a
president, — with intellectual powers trained to the
utmost.

I doubt if any one can appreciate her pictures who
fails to supplement them with that instantaneous
illumination which came to her face the moment she
spoke. It was a kind of inner light which I have
never seen on any other face of man or woman.

When some girls had been talking foolishly, though
apparently half aware that what they said was folly,
she told them to stop, and added, "I'm glad I never
was a girl."

She said, "Susan, you care too much about things ;
take them less seriously. The best of them won't run
away."

She told me, "They hated me when I first came to
Wellesley. I had charge of the work in the dining
room and I made the girls attend to it. They had

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 161

fallen into slack ways and resisted. But hate does n't
last long in good girls."

One day I went to her in great indignation : "The
doctor says I must go home, and I don't want to."
"Very well," she said, "it is n't I who send you. So
don't let us fall out about it. Sit down, talk it over,
and let us see if we can plan to persuade the doctor
to change his mind." As it gradually appeared that
I must go and must be quiet for a time, she said, "It
requires more courage to meet the daily tasks of a
dull life than to rise for a moment to a great occasion.
Don't you think it would be easier to submit to a
surgical operation, and be done with it, than to sit
still for a year and have some one stick pins into
you?"

A certain senior of my class was habitually late at
chapel. For a time this passed unnoticed. One
morning, after everybody else was seated and the
hymn was about to be given out, this senior opened
the door. Miss Freeman fixed her eyes on her, fol-
lowed her with them all the way down the aisle until
she took her place in the middle of the front row.
"Now" said she, "we will sing the 164th hymn."
The rebuke of her eyes and her emphasis were not to
be forgotten. That was all she ever said about the
matter, but it did not occur again.

162 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

One year many of us grew lazy and fell into the
habit of sitting during the hymn. One morning
Miss Freeman said quietly, but with her own look
of humorous determination, "We will rise and sing
the 23d hymn — * Stand up, stand up for Jesus/"
Of course we rose, and kept on rising. Equally of
course we were diverted by the cleverness which
made any chiding word unnecessary.

Her self-control was instantaneous. As a little
child, she had been frightened by seeing a cat in a
fit, and she had ever after an instinctive aversion to
cats. One morning at the chapel service, when she
was leading the prayer with her eyes closed, a cat
strayed upon the platform, jumped to her chair, and
then to the desk upon her folded hands. Without the
least quiver of voice to indicate that she had noticed
anything, and without opening her eyes, she laid a
hand upon the cat, pressed her gently down until the
prayer was ended, then just before the last word
quietly dropped her to the floor.

She raised the money for the building of a new
dormitory, but there was great delay in finishing it.
The contractors were late, the workmen dawdled.
Finally she went to the director of the works and
quietly said, "We move into this building on such a
day." He answered, "Impossible. It will not be

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 163

finished." "We shall be sorry to inconvenience your
workmen, but we move on that day." The director
stormed, made remarks about "ignorant women,
unsexing themselves by trying to boss men." But
wonders were accomplished, and on the day in ques-
tion we moved in with comparatively little left to be
done.

An Englishman came to the college one day. After
inspecting it pretty fully and admiring its beauty,
completeness, and cheerful effect on its students, he
was still perplexed by its strangeness and by the
readjustment of social conditions which it seemed to
imply. "But, Miss Freeman," he inquired, "will not
the four years here interfere with a girl's chances ? "
"Possibly they will," Miss Freeman answered, "her
chances with men of a certain type. But I don't
believe she will mind."

Walking with her once, I said, "Miss Freeman,
there is a quality I long to possess more than any
other, and that is tact. Probably it is inborn. Cer-
tainly it is very difficult to acquire. But you are the
most tactful person I ever knew. Can't you give me
some hint to help me a little toward tactf ulness ? "
Unassumingly she disclaimed any such power. She
wished she had it. She had tried to get it, and had
been encouraged to do so by a former teacher. A

164 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

teacher of her girlhood had told her about the impor-
tance of tact and had said that a good way to gain it
was to care more about the person we are dealing with,
and the end we seek, than about gaining that end by
our special means. In working with others, he
believed we often reach our end soonest if we are
willing to set aside the way we know to be best and
let others take the way they like best. So long as they
are moving in our direction, and we are keeping close
to them, he thought we ought to be satisfied.

My mother likes to recall the Sunday vesper ser-
vice just before I graduated. Mother was a really
great singer, with a reputation in England for ora-
torio solo work. She sang always, whenever she
could give pleasure to anybody. The college kept her
pretty busy during her week there. That Sunday
night Miss Freeman sat far back in the chapel. As
mother left the room, she came, like an impulsive
child, and threw her arms around mother's neck and
told her tearfully what the music had meant to her.
I have always thought that her power lay partly in
her presentation of the child in connection with the
forceful woman.

My first glimpse of her was in my senior year.
College did not begin till the morrow, and we were
having a royal time over home boxes and summer

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 165

news, when some one reported that we had a new
professor of history, that she was to be our senior
class officer, and that now was a propitious time to
make her acquaintance and test her quality. A dele-
gation waited on her and brought her, youthful as
the youngest of . us, bright, alert, charming — her
fine, soft, brown hair combed back from her brow
to a dainty coil behind, escaping in waves, making
merry with itself here and there, her round, full face
shining with delight to be counted one of us. She
won us then and there, and forever.

I did not see her from that time, when she appeared
in all her youthful beauty and freshness, until after
the first year of her presidency. It was only three
years as men count time, but many years had elapsed
if we reckon what had been accomplished. A greater
Wellesley had been evolved, and our lady showed
marks of the effort. I looked at her twice before I,
her warm and intimate companion of three years
before, recognized her. Her hair was smoothly
parted. She had donned some sort of lace arrange-
ment ; for at twenty-seven and as president of a col-
lege one needs external signs of age — though all this
was soon abandoned. The evolution of the new
Wellesley had drawn lines over the round, mobile face,
lines of character, of strength, lines to be welcomed,
for they stood for development and growth. She
was changed and Wellesley was changed. She had

166 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

reached out her hand and spanned the distance
between Wellesley and Boston, between Wellesley
and Cambridge. We were no longer sufficient to our-
selves, shut away from the larger life at our doors,
narrow, constrained, dogmatic, exclusive. At a
bound our infancy was left behind. It is marvelous
to look back upon the inspired intelligence with
which she guided Wellesley through that rapid
development.

Some of the loudest mourners over her departure
from Wellesley were the little children of the neigh-
borhood, for whom from time to time she used to
hold "baby parties" on the college green. One little
fellow of four uttered his lamentation so freshly that
she cherished the remembrance of it. When his
mother told him that Miss Freeman was going away
from Wellesley, he broke into convulsive sobs; nor
could he be quieted with assurances that she was not
going far away, but would be very near, at Cambridge,
where he might sometimes see her. "No, no,
mama!" he cried, "You don't understand. It is n't
the farness nor the nearness that I mind. It's the
ne ver-the-sameness . ' '

Every place connected with her is filled with her
joyous vitality. Here I see her writing letters, running
down the hall ; can catch her laugh, and her excite-

THE WELLESLEY PRESIDENCY 167

ment over the interests of others. I recall how, when
I went into a room where she was, she seemed the
whole thing; and that when she went out, there was
nothing left. As often as I think of her, I am ashamed
of not being always hopeful and happy.

We loved her for the loving thoughts which sped

Straight from her heart, until they found their goal

In some perplexed or troubled human soul,
And broke anew the ever living bread.
We loved the mind courageous, which no dread

Of failure ever daunted, whose control

Of gentleness all opposition stole ;
We loved herself and all the joy she shed.
O Leader of the Leaders ! Like a light

Thy life was set, to counsel, to befriend.
Thy quick and eager insight seized the right

And shared the prize with bounteous hand and free.

Fed from the fountains of infinity
Thy life was service, having love to spend.

PRESIDENT CAROLINE HAZARD.

IX

MARRIAGE

IN his delightful "Theory of the Moral Senti-
ments" Adam Smith points out that each of us has
certain emotions so entirely his own that to talk of
them in public is improper. Suitable enough in them-
selves, they are not suitable for conversation. For
the law of good manners is dictated by the possi-
bility of sympathy. To express to another person
feelings which are so little his that he cannot fully
sympathize with them is to be rude to him and inde-
cent as regards oneself. With this principle cultivated
society is substantially in accord and sharply resents
disclosures of private joys and sorrows. It is true
we give license to poets and novelists, and praise
them in proportion as they reveal the intimacies of
the human heart. But it is the universal human
heart, and not the special operations of John's or
Susan's, which they reveal. Only as one's own expe-
rience is typical of that of others should it be made
public.

That marriage is a matter more of private than of
public concern is obvious; for while its larger emo-
tions and circumstances are as generally apprehen-

MARRIAGE 169

sible as other events of the day, these are tinged
throughout with what Adam Smith calls "a peculiar
turn of imagination," which is the lover's own and
cannot be shared without a kind of impiety. I should
naturally, therefore, pass Miss Freeman's marriage
by with a bare record, if it did not present certain
typical features and involve problems of general
public concern. It excited much debate at the time,
and probably influenced more people for good or ill
than any other event of her life. Its hopes, courage,
and sacrifices show the largeness of her woman-
hood. These aspects of it I must set forth. A bio-
graphy which attempts to trace the inner growth of
that beautiful character must give to this a central
place.

Professor Horsford of Cambridge was an early
friend of Mr. Durant's. He became chairman of the
board of visitors of the college and one of its most
frequent benefactors. Over Miss Freeman he
watched with a father's tenderness. To his house
she often came, and largely through him she be-
came known in Cambridge. Her administration of
Wellesley was much admired there. I had heard
her praises sung for several years before I met her at
Professor Horsford's house in 1884. In 1886, when
I was publishing some papers on the elective sys-
tem, I came to know her better, especially as in that
year I gave a course of lectures at Wellesley. During

170 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

the summer of 1886 Mrs. Governor Claflin and she
visited Boxford, my country home. From that time
our intimacy ripened rapidly until on her thirty-
second birthday, February 21, 1887, I brought her
an engagement ring. With characteristic audacity
she insisted on wearing it at once. When at our next
meeting I asked if her girls had not remarked it, she
said they had on that very evening; but that when
she had told them it was her birthday and this was
one of her birthday gifts, she started a discussion
over their respective ages and the subject of the ring
disappeared. It did not disappear from her finger,
however, necessary though concealment was. We
both understood how badly the college and her work
would be upset if our relations were talked of before
the end of the term. I therefore stayed away from
Wellesley, and nobody, not even the members of
our two families, learned until summer that the new
tie was formed. Immediately after Commencement
Miss Freeman called a meeting of the Trustees and
laid the whole matter before them.

My hope had been that she would be set free from
Wellesley at once, and the wedding take place during
the summer. In view of this she had already made
some preliminary inquiries about a successor, in-
quiries which had little other result than to show
how narrow was the range of choice. But the Trus-
tees could not be brought to an immediate decision.

MARRIAGE 171

To lose Miss Freeman was in their view to imperil
Wellesley, and naturally enough they wished for time
to look about. They urged her to remain one year
more, during which a successor might be sought,
while both the public mind and the internal affairs
of the college would become adjusted to the new
order. From their point of view the plan was wise.
Miss Freeman's devotion to duty, too, answered the
appeal of their fears and made any defence of her
own advantage distressing. I remember how we
went driving on one of those perplexing days, and
how as we passed farther into the solitary woods her
spirits broke into girlish glee over the prospect of
our home. She sang, laughed, jested, spoke low.
Suddenly our road left the woods, and we found our-
selves again on the shore of Lake Waban, with the
college in full sight across the water. Her merriment
stopped. Her face sobered and soon showed positive
anguish. "How can I?" she said after a minute's
silence. I could not bring the glad mood back.
Sadly and with few more words we drove into the
college grounds. Unhappily, at a time when this call
of the college was especially strong, I gave way and
agreed to let her remain in service until Christmas.
It was barbarous to abandon her thus to the wolves.
The damage done her health by those cruel months
lasted for years ; and in December Professor Helen
A. Shafer was appointed her successor, — the same

172 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

excellent person who had been designated in July.
My futile repentance I here record.

But graver questions than that of date were involved
in our marriage. Miss Freeman 's youth and beauty
ruling so skilfully the fairyland of Wellesley had
often brought her the title of "The Princess," and
Tennyson's poem of that name had become asso-
ciated with her work. Now its problem, private
fulfilment against public service, was brought widely
into debate. There were heated partisans on each
side. On the one hand it was strongly argued that
in proportion as one develops capacity for public
things he should treat his personal desires as matters
of little moment. Others should treat them so too.
Priests cannot marry, and kings only those who are
likely to promote the interests of their land. When
a headstrong king resigns his crown to marry a beg-
gar maid, it makes a pretty story, but a justly exas-
perated people. It is not tyranny to regulate the
marriage of soldiers and sailors. Possibly artists
should remain single. Responsibility carries with it
trusts which cannot be cast away at will. Civilization
rests upon dedicated lives, lives which acknowledge
obligation not to themselves or to other single per-
sons, but to the community, to science, to art, to a
cause. Especially base was it for one who had proved
her power to win an unwilling public to look with
favor on the education of women now to snatch at

MARRIAGE 173

the selfish seclusion of home, and so confirm the
popular fancy that a woman will drop the weighti-
est charge if enticed with a bit of sentiment. What
too must be thought of the man who would tempt
her from eminence to obscurity ?

Such distrustful remarks hurt Miss Freeman
cruelly, and she was correspondingly grateful for the
many kind words and letters which brought approval
of her step. The Trustees and professors were
especially generous. They understood her and now,
with but one or two exceptions, rejoiced in her gain,
regardless of their own loss. Yet to some even of
them, as to many of the public, it was not at once
evident why marriage should break her career and
leave mine intact. Why should not I give way rather
than she ? Harvard is at no great distance from
Wellesley. I had found my way across for injury;
why not now for benefit ? Many Harvard instructors
live in neighboring towns. One might go to and fro
each day from Wellesley. Or, better still, why not
resign at Harvard and join her in the presidency?
Then home and occupation would alike express our
union. A friend of Wellesley offered to build us a
house within the grounds there, and to raise a fund
for the joint salary, though this was hardly necessary ;
her salary being at the time $4000 and mine but
$3500, we should have been in easier circumstances
at Wellesley than in Cambridge.

174 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I have stated these adverse criticisms somewhat
in detail because they all seem to me important.
With most of them I am in hearty sympathy ; indeed
I was so even then, as appears in a letter recently
sent me from Mrs. Claflin's papers and printed at
the close of this chapter. But though in that letter
some considerations are given which might well
lessen Wellesley's sense of loss, I think I had better
state here more systematically the reasons which at
the time we thought set us free to act as love prompted.
Our problem having been recognized as a somewhat
general one, the grounds of our decision may properly
have some general interest.

In the view of both of us Miss Freeman's work at
Wellesley was already substantially done. In an-
other six years she could accomplish little more than
any creditable successor. She had set the pattern,
and quiet growth according to it was what was now
required. Little further constructive work was at
the moment possible. From the dying hands of the
founder she had received the rough outlines of a col-
lege. With consummate skill and originality she
had set these in order, and filled them with such
ideals as would insure their ultimate strength. But
she was confined to a pioneer epoch, and its very
conditions cut her off from sharing in the anticipated
results. No college can be created at a word ; it is a
thing of growth. Especially is it true of a college

MARRIAGE 175

started by a single founder that after its first active
years there comes a considerable period of quiescence.
Until the personal stamp has worn away, the public
rightly will not adopt it. The Trustees selected by
the founder must die, his Faculty be replaced, the
resources of his fortune prove evidently insufficient,
his private methods of administration go through a
searching criticism, and he himself sink into a hazy
and mythical figure, before the community will re-
gard his college as really its own and a new group
of givers be gathered for its support. All this requires
time. It seemed to Miss Freeman and myself that
having faithfully carried the college through its
pioneer period, she might be discharged from its
waiting time; that the length of this might even be
diminished and the coming of a period of expansion
be hastened by the withdrawal of one so closely asso-
ciated with its founder. Much of the aid she could
now give might be given as well in private life as from
the president's chair. Of course she remained on the
Board of Trustees, and was a close friend of the
succeeding presidents.

But it might well be urged that even during the
waiting years, though further enlargement was im-
possible, her ennobling presence could ill be spared.
I thought, however, that so subordinate a benefit to
the college should properly give way to the demands
of her health. It will be remembered that she broke

176 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

down during her first year at Wellesley. While she
learned much from that experience, she had never
been able to adopt the more indulgent modes of life
which she knew to be necessary for full recovery.
Her office claimed all her time and much more than
her strength, allowing her only a single vacation in
six years. The duties of a president are under the
best conditions enormous, and present themselves
with little regard to the needs of him who executes
them. They crushed her two successors more quickly
than herself. To-day we have learned better means
of protection than were known then. President
Hazard justly writes, "Twenty years ago there were
fewer devices for labor-saving. Stenographers were
not yet in the field, secretaries still wrote long-hand.
So with scanty help, working day and night, living in
the building with her girls, having them constantly
in close association with her, giving unsparingly of
herself, Miss Freeman lived her life." I did not
think it safe that such exhaustion should continue.
It was better even for the college that she should help
it henceforth in other ways.

Obviously too these conditions cut me off from
joining her at Wellesley ; for while, if I were there, I
could undoubtedly relieve her of much, I could not
break up those habits of whole-hearted devotion
which were at once her glory and her danger. But
of course I had no idea of closing her career. Those

MARRIAGE 177

who protested against this were quite right. Talents
so obviously meant for mankind no one had a right
to seize for himself. "Not mine, I never called
her mine.'* Only on condition that I could give her
enlargement, not confinement, was I justified in
accepting her sacrifice and bearing her away to my
home. Yet I thought our critics a little dull not to
perceive the vast increase of powers which love,
home, ease, and happiness bring. Until these funda-
mental needs are supplied, everybody in my judg-
ment is only half himself. It is absurd then to look
on these with suspicion and exalt a public career in
contrast, when these are the very means by which
that becomes rich and strong. The public person is
not one being and the private another ; for the worth
of public leadership is pretty exactly proportioned
to the wealth of the personal nature. So it had
hitherto been in her case. To carry that wealth still
nearer to completeness was my happy office. Presi-
dent Eliot's words are weighty : —

"After six years of masterly work at Wellesley
College, in which she exhibited the keenest intelli-
gence, large executive ability, and a remarkable
capacity for winning affection and respect, she laid
down these functions, married at the age of thirty-
two, and apparently entered on a wholly new career.
Alice Freeman thus gave the most striking testimony
she could give of her faith in the fundamental social

178 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

principle that love between man and woman, and
the family life which results therefrom, afford for
each sex the conditions of its greatest usefulness and
honor, and of its supreme happiness. The opponents
of the higher education of women had always argued
that such education would tend to prevent marriage
and to dispossess the family as the cornerstone of
society. Alice Freeman gave the whole force of her
conspicuous example to disprove that objection. She
illustrated in her own case the supremacy of love and
of family life in the heart of both man and woman."
I have said that I weakly agreed to have Miss
Freeman remain at Wellesley until December. Each
Sunday of those autumn months I spent with her
there, becoming more fully acquainted with the col-
lege and the life which she was soon to lay down. In
these last months she was doubly anxious to do her
utmost for her beloved college, and everybody who
had any subject on which she might be consulted with
advantage took this opportunity to see her. Girls
and colleagues hastened to get one final draught of
inspiration. Love is merciless, and often crowds so
close to its adored object as almost to trample it
down. Then too the conflicting claims of home and
college tore her night and day. A severer period of
toil she never experienced. Fortunately a limit was
fixed by the Harvard Christmas recess, extending
from December 23 to January 3. The first of these

MARRIAGE 179

days, falling in 1887 on Friday, was set for the wed-
ding. She had decided to be married at the house
of Governor and Mrs. Claflin, 65 Mt. Vernon Street,
Boston, which had been one of her dearest places of
refuge since she first came to Wellesley. Her par-
ents' home was too far away. As I was living in
chambers, Cambridge was out of the question ; and
she could not get rid of a feeling that to be married
in the Wellesley Chapel would give her personal
affairs excessive prominence. The wedding was at
half-past eleven in the morning. Up to that hour of
the previous night she worked in her college office.

LETTERS

BOXFOBD, July 8, 1887.
DEAR MRS. CLAFLIN:

I hear from Miss Freeman that she has told you
of our engagement. I am very glad she has. You
would naturally be one of the first whom we should
wish to tell. You have known us as few others
among the Trustees have, and in the excited discus-
sions that are to come there will be plenty of need of
clear knowledge, in order to make people turn away
from their hot momentary feeling and consider the
real facts in the case. This great service of keeping
people just and clear-headed you can now do for
Miss Freeman. She will need such protection. She
is greatly strained already. You know how sensitive

180 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

she is to the disapproval of those she loves, even
when she sees that their disapproval springs from
nothing better than half knowledge. To hint that she
is abandoning duty for selfish gains is to cut her
with a knife. We all perceive that she is incapable
of doing such a thing, but her pain is just as great
as if she were.

On the other hand, that people will abuse me I
anticipate, and I think it very proper that they
should. Being of tolerably tough material, I can
stand abuse very comfortably. In the place of a
Wellesley Trustee, I dare say I should denounce this
thievish Harvard professor pretty roundly. And yet
I hold that at the present moment I am one of the
great benefactors of Wellesley, one of the few who
clearly see the direction in which its prosperity lies.
Let me explain the paradox.

Great causes and great institutions are generally
best founded, or guided through crises, by a single
leader. They are embodiments of him. His is their
inspiration and his their wisdom. The service of
them is personal allegiance. To him everything is
referred, and his will takes for the time the place of
all more minute law and organization. Wellesley
has fortunately had this experience, first under Mr.
Durant and then under the general of his choice.
But the 'danger which besets such an institution is
obvious : it does not acquire a life of its own. Every-

MARRIAGE 181

thing is staked on the single leader; and even when
that leader is perfect, there is something lacking in
the spontaneous vigor of the separate parts. It is
beautiful to see how the greatest of all leaders per-
ceived this and said to his disciples, "It is expedient
for you that I go away, although because I go sor-
row hath filled your hearts." He knew that fulness
of life could come about only in that way.

Now you know that ever since I have been ac-
quainted with you, and before I loved Miss Freeman,
I pointed out that this must be the next stage in
Wellesley's growth. I held that it was now about
ready for it. There is always something green and
immature in an institution that hangs much on a
single person. It is in unstable equilibrium. Solid
organizations welcome great men, but are not de-
pendent on them. A Western college may die if it
does not get a suitable president; the great univer-
sities of Germany change their rectors every two
years, and are totally unaffected.

You and I believe in Miss Freeman's work. We
think it has been strong and far-seeing. We hold
that she has set the college on the right paths and
has not only done herself, but has shown others how
to do. If this is our belief, we have nothing to be
afraid of in the present change. The time of test-
ing her work is come, and we can be calm, sure
that whatever the temporary hardship, here is an

182 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

opportunity for the college to take a great step for-
ward.

You will readily suppose that in my mind these
are no new thoughts. For Wellesley I am something
like the enthusiast that you are, and this ennobling
friendship of mine with Miss Freeman could not
deepen from year to year and month to month with-
out often calling me to consider what right I had to
such a share in her. The advantage I have must be
the advantage of the public too. Unless I had be-
lieved it might be so, I would have turned away. I
do believe it ; and as I come nearer, I believe it more
and more. I now know — what I did not at first —
that those who clamor for her remaining longer at
Wellesley, while believing themselves public-spirited
are doing a cruelly selfish thing. They are asking her
to give what she has already spent, and spent too
for their sakes. If they really love her and are grate-
ful for her work, they will beg her to leave. My
chief fear is that it is already too late. If I had never
appeared, she could not go on two years longer. But
my hope is that by constant watchfulness and by the
warm strength of a home — which to her, since she
is a human being, is no less precious than it is to
those who will blame her — I may do something to
restore powers already seriously shaken and may
succeed in making of her a great buttress, a strong
outside support, for Wellesley through many years.

MARRIAGE 183

It is pleasant to think too that my own opportunities
for helping Wellesley will now be much increased.

But these things are not the main object of my
letter. I am really writing an invitation. I want you
to visit me here a week from Saturday, and to bring
Miss Freeman with you. Here we will have more of
those restful days which grow only in these pleasant
fields. The past months have brought some hard-
ships, among them these: that for the sake of the
college I thought I had no right to visit Wellesley —
which I saw but once between March and Commence-
ment — and then that for the same reason I have
been forced into silence with my friends. Now there
is a glad relief from restraint. Alice and I have been
perfectly free in expressing to you our interest in one
another while we were only friends; and now that
our friendship has gone through and through us, we
want you with us still; for you know as few others
can how exceptional is our union — occupations
and tastes and principles and experience already
harmonized before we marry, and our powers suf-
ficiently unlike to give us the wealth of diversity. I
am sure that you who are not afraid of sentiment
will, if with some momentary regrets, still give us your
hearty approval and, as I hope, your presence here.

With warm regard, I am,

Sincerely yours,

G. H. PALMER.

184 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

You ought not to be abroad this bright summer
Sunday, but here where we could talk to our heart's
content of many, many things. Your good letter
made me sorry that you have met disappointments
everywhere in your wanderings, but I hope you have
found the clear air invigorating for your sister. Then
I am sure you will be contented. I shall not go
abroad this summer. I need the rest badly, and
ought to go and take it immediately. But perhaps I
can do better. It is of this that I want to write you
to-day. So go away by yourself before you read my
next page. It is cruel that I cannot be near to com-
fort you as I talk, because I think you will be very
sorry, possibly angry; but sometime you will know
that I am doing the best thing I can possibly do. For
I am going to marry — sometime — and to marry
Professor Palmer. Yes, dear, I know you think I
ought not to leave the college, and are terribly
grieved. You asked me once about him, but then we
were not engaged. As soon as I can, I tell you ; and I
believe you will really be glad to have me take a
quieter, longer life than I could otherwise have, a
happier and a wiser one. Remember this when you
come home and do not refuse to know my professor,
but learn to love him for his own true sake — not
merely for mine. And won't you read German with
me this year? I must revive my languages as fully
as possible, for I suppose the following summer we
go abroad.

MARRIAGE 185

I am just dressed, dear father, for the first time
since Monday; and now it is Thursday afternoon.
An intermittent fever has got hold of me and a bad
cough, especially nights and mornings. I had no
appetite, and the constant feeling of weakness wore
me out and sent me to bed last Monday. Now I am
better, and I want to talk about plans for the summer
instead of about myself all the time. My engagement
is announced, and I have promised the Trustees to
remain as president for a part of next year. So you
will be pleased, quite satisfied I hope. I make up a
bundle of these nice letters which have come from
all over the country and share them with you. H.
writes, "Ah, if we might have Professor Palmer here
at Wellesley!" That is what so many are saying
— all except the Harvard and Cambridge people —
urging him to come to the college with me.

I wonder where you would like me to be married
when the time comes. All his friends and the college
people will wish the wedding here, for few could go
so far as Michigan. But I would never consent to be
married at the college unless every member of my
family could be present, and I am not sure that I
should like it even then. I can see that I shall be
urged to let Wellesley have the pleasure of the wed-
ding. Mr. Palmer would like to have it in the
pleasant autumn weather, when it is so much easier
to begin housekeeping than in the winter. Could you

186 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

come East by that time ? Yet our house in Saginaw
is so pretty I should really like to have the wedding
there, where it would be less conspicuous. A few
people would like to come from here. Tell me what
you think.

I snatch this little minute on the train going to
Boston in order to get a word with you, my child.
Can you read what I would say ? On Friday morning,
December 23, I am to be married in Boston, just
Mr. Palmer's family and my own present. A few of
our dearest friends are to be invited to meet us
immediately afterwards. I wish my little girl could
be there and meet her new father. But I will answer
now the questions you have in mind. I am to be
married in a long white moire dress, with point lace
and veil, — to be a real bride, you see, — and my
reception dresses are dark red velvet, white lace,
white silk, and yellow satin. We go to housekeeping
immediately in Cambridge.

It is now settled that we sail the first of July, and
remain fifteen months abroad. I am sure the deci-
sion is wise, but I have many regrets, I love some
people and colleges in and about Boston so much
that this long absence is not coveted. Yet we both
need to seize the opportunity at once. If we wait a
year, with so many frail relatives on each side, we

MARRIAGE 187

may not be able to go at all. We can go now, leaving
all our friends in fair comfort and health ; and a year
hence return from rest and study a good deal better
fitted for daily work. So I am making my farewell
visit at home, leaving my husband to cope with a new
cook alone. Why will good servants get married ?

1888, December 23, 11.30 A. M. Dear Mrs. Claflin :
You are the one who must share this hour. Do you
know that just a year ago my George was taking me
down the stairs into your beautiful rooms to make
me a wife ? So I must come back and end the perfect
year as I began it, under the light of your smile. No
one of us knew then how blessed a year was opening
before two people. I wish I might sit down in your
own room now and show you the symbol which has
just been put on my hand. It is a great shining opal,
set round with diamonds. When G. and I were in
Paris four months ago we were strolling one night,
looking into the jeweller's fascinating windows, and
discovered an opal ring with tints of green and gold,
richer and deeper than we had ever seen before. We
looked at it with delight and often afterwards
searched for it, but could never find it again. Fancy
how my breath was taken away when just now that
identical ring was put on my finger! That base
deceiver had helped me look for it many a time after
it was safely hidden in his Docket. And now here it

188 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

is, with the splendor of the sun at its heart and
changing into fresh beauty whenever I look at it.
That, dear friend, is like married life, is n't it? All
things made new every morning and evening. And
it is good to have you so tied in with our greatest
days. I think of you in connection with Boxford's
sweet peace, with Wellesley's eager life, with all our
married joy and work together. Let us see each other
very often when I come home.

X

SABBATICAL YEARS

THREE out of the four divisions into which Mrs.
Palmer's life naturally falls have now been described.
First there was the period of Family Life, before she
had acquired a life of her own ; then that of Culture,
when from early girlhood to university graduation
she was busy with her own development ; thirdly, that
of Service, when the daily demands of other people
dictated every act. Now with her marriage begins a
period of Self-Expression, when she came to the full
use of all her powers and in their joyous outgo so
combined service and culture that it was impossible
to say whether she labored for the benefit of others
or for the mere fun of the thing. The latter was her
own view. As she woke in the morning she would
often say, "Here's another great rich day!" The
glowing world was before her, and with it she was in
complete accord. I have seen a puzzled look come
over her face when her self-denial was praised. That
was not the side from which she approached her
duties ; interest in them was her prompter. I some-
times think she was hardly more unselfish than
others; only her selfishness excluded none of the

190 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

affairs of those about her, but found its material
there. From her earliest childhood there was stored
in this exuberant and sympathetic nature provision
for the union of aims which often conflict. It grew
through all her bleak years, but reached its most
exquisite and abundant fruitage only after she found
herself in a sheltered home. There, though she still
did the work of several men, bits of quiet could be
interposed, her health was guarded and grew firm,
the large range and variety of her influence prevented
monotonous fatigue, and the happiness of her own
dancing heart went forth to gladden all she did.
Through strenuous seasons she had already gained

The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill.

She now went on her joyous way exulting in their
exercise.

During the spring of 1888 we occupied a furnished
house in Cambridge, where Mrs. Palmer was
warmly welcomed. Study was thrown to the winds;
we devoted ourselves to resting, to becoming better
acquainted with each other and with our neighbors.
In a university town every newcomer must eat his
way in, and during the course of his adoption as
a member of the household attend a kindly series of
dinners and teas. This process of making acquaint-
ance was in our case begun by a luncheon in Mrs.

SABBATICAL YEARS 191

Palmer's honor given by President and Mrs. Eliot,,
and attended solely by the Harvard Faculty and their
wives. Similar festivities filled our evenings. Our
afternoons were occupied with calls ; I remember
making three hundred and forty in the course of the
season. Mondays, the weekly holidays of Wellesley,
we opened our door to Mrs. Palmer's former asso-
ciates. Making a business of society was so novel to
me that I was interested in watching its different
effects on Mrs. Palmer and myself. For a time it
puzzled me to know why at the end of a day of it she
came out fresh and I exhausted. But I soon dis-
covered that she had all the time been enjoying
people, while I had been trying to enjoy them. For
her, people always seemed necessary to enable her
to breathe easily, their manifold interests to be her
daily food. As she gradually adjusted herself to my
studious ways, and I to her social ones, there came a
double gain.

But her obvious need after so many years of labor
was entire rest and change of scene. If so vital a
creature could be rendered torpid for a time, she
would be sure to come forth with heightened powers.
For just such periodic renewal there exists a happy
provision at Harvard, this being the first university
to establish the Sabbatical Year. Each seventh year,
it is arranged, a professor may take to himself on
half pay. He need not teach or study, he may travel

192 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

or remain at home, he may even altogether decline
the proffered vacation and go on with customary
work and salary; but the opportunity is given to
freshen and enrich himself, and by doing so to enrich
his subsequent teaching. Only five years before, I
had enjoyed such a vacation, but the authorities
of the University, perceiving Mrs. Palmer's need,
offered me another prematurely. I accepted it; we
went abroad in June, remaining away for more than
a year. Three such Sabbatical Years we had, in 1888,
1895, and 1902, important periods in Mrs. Palmer's
life, yet interruptions of its current. Being detach-
able from the rest of her story, I will treat them all
here indiscriminately, in connection with the first.
Nor will I set down their incidents chronologically,
but rather indicate the general methods of recupera-
tion pursued in them and thus attempt to exhibit in
its lighter moments a character which has hitherto
appeared too sedate.

Mrs. Palmer was an excellent loafer. I had some
misgivings on this point at first, remembering how
perniciously habituated she was to industry. In
going abroad I felt that my chief object must be to
teach her to eat, sleep, and loaf. But she required
no teaching, and took to all these useful arts instinct-
ively. In fact they had been the secret of her past
endurance. She never worried. When a job was
completed, or not yet ready to attack, she turned her

SABBATICAL YEARS 193

mind to other things. During her severest times at
Wellesley she slept soundly and immediately. Once
in later life, after a public address, when she was
about to take a train for another engagement, a worn
woman pressed forward with the question, "Mrs.
Palmer, how are you able to do so much more than
other persons?" The time only permitted a witty
epigram, but she packed it with truth. "Because,"
she answered, "I haven't any nerves nor any con-
science, and my husband says I have n't any back-
bone." A prosaic letter came the next day inquiring
whether one could altogether dispense with a con-
science. She could, when work was over. Into a
holiday no schoolgirl of twelve ever carried a lighter
heart. Her very aptitudes for business fitted her also
for recreation, since whatever was appropriate to the
moment, even idleness, got at once her full attention.
Such intentional methods of escaping responsibility
were greatly assisted too by the native nimbleness
of her physical senses, her response to natural beauty,
the vivacious interest she took in every moving thing,
and her disposition to fill small matters with romance.
The aim then of our Sabbatical Years not being
intellectual or social profit, we sought seclusion and
avoided sight-seeing. Seldom did we go out of an
evening, and we carried no letters of introduction.
Europe we took as our playground. We should have
remained at home if anywhere in America we could

194 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

have escaped business and people ; but against these
attractive enemies of the worn-out man there is no
barrier like the ocean. We accordingly moved about
as little as possible ; and if we ever went to popular
resorts, we went there out of season. We did not
visit Norway or Russia, Asia, Africa, or Spain — all
these parts requiring a large amount of travel. Our
taste turned to places where greater enjoyment could
be had with smaller fatigue. Rome, too, we gener-
ally avoided, as the place where all the world is
engaged in afternoon tea. Our chief demand was
domestic comfort, with a minor welcome for pleasing
scenes or handy galleries and libraries. Sunshine we
also desired, but learned how rarely it can be had in
a European winter. That the sun works throughout
the year is apparently a discovery of Columbus, our
America showing between its wintry storms such
skies as Europe seldom sees. One spends weeks
abroad without the sun. For half the year the gray
day is in fashion ; while the feeling of the American
is that it is the business of clouds to rain, and that
when not engaged in this they should leave the sky.
But finding that pretty much the same gloom
obtained everywhere, we thought we profited most
by long stays in single places. When after a few
months the sense of repose began to wear down into
incipient monotony, we would interpose a few weeks
of brisk travel before settling again in some spot

SABBATICAL YEARS 195

widely different frqm the previous home. To the
making of these successive homes we thought a few
familiar objects useful. Usually we carried about
with us a tablecloth, clock, hearth-rug, and many
books. The distribution of these made even hotel
rooms homelike.

But hotels were little to our liking, especially those
designed for foreigners. Finding that in pensions
we had still less privacy, we usually took furnished
rooms, hired a maid, and set up housekeeping. In
Germany, for any brief period, this is impossible,
the ubiquitous government invading the kitchen and
prescribing the length and conditions of service. But
in France and Italy most comfortable apartments
can be had at rates far below those of the large hotels.
Ours usually had three chambers, with parlor, dining
room, and kitchen. Of the many servants who have
been with us in all parts of Europe we never found
one incompetent or dishonest, a record almost in-
credible to our oppressed housekeepers. To several
we became warmly attached. In America servants
are usually helots — a subject people of alien na-
tionality. In Europe they differ little from other
persons except in the matter of means. We found
several of great intelligence and dignity, but perhaps
I ought to add that we never employed those who
spoke English. They do not keep their quality after
mixing much with foreigners. We generally obtained

196 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

them through the concierge, and to them entrusted
most of our marketing. It was always honestly done,
at least it was done for less than I could do it. No
doubt in order to select a good servant or concierge
one should be a fair judge of human nature; but he
who is not will hardly find ease in any relation of life.
On coming to a city we ordinarily went to a small
hotel. From this I sallied forth to explore the streets
which struck me as best adapted for residence. Cards
in the windows show whether there are apartments
to let and if they are furnished. I seldom inquired the
price, but mentioned what I was prepared to pay.
Nor did I ever engage on a first visit ; but after look-
ing into ten or twenty houses, I made a list of the
three or four that pleased me and reported them to
Mrs. Palmer. These we then inspected together, com-
paring their unlike advantages, and usually were soon
able to reach a satisfactory decision. But we did not
feel compelled to accept what was merely pretty
good, our faith being that in every city there were just
the cheerful rooms we wished, and at our own price,
if we could only find them ; and never were we disap-
pointed in our pleasant game of hide and seek. A
little pains spent in the search saves much disap-
pointment in the residence. Some American fears,
too, proved groundless: difficulties did not arise in
drawing the contract at hiring, nor on leaving were
we charged with improper damages. That such

SABBATICAL YEARS 197

things occur I do not doubt, but certainly they can-
not be common. Of course out of season one has his
best choice of rooms, gets them on his own terms, and
keeps them only so long as he pleases. We have
sometimes set up a home for a single month. The
total expense of such an establishment — lodging,
food, servant, washing, fees, and flowers, this last an
important item — never exceeded thirty francs a day
for the two. Often it was much less.

Such a home once discovered is available after-
wards. The happiness formerly enjoyed in it is pre-
served and greets him who returns. There are fa-
miliar faces and street-cries. The chair has a better
place by the fire than in other rooms, and the bed
yields sounder sleep. One is obliged to form no new
habits, and the means of access to the pleasant places
of the town are understood without inquiry. So we
soon acquired favorite haunts. Grasmere, among the
English Lakes, was one of them, where we lived with
Wordsworth, the wild roses, the rattling ghylls, and
the mists which curl about the slaty peaks. To these
gracious scenes we usually turned on landing from
the ocean, and would end the London shopping in
time to spend among them the week before sailing
home. Paris and Venice and Florence and the Uni-
versity of my boyhood, Tubingen in Germany,
always claimed us. Each of these is a city of the soul
and completely sums up a single mental attitude.

198 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

In Paris can be had more exactly the kind of life
one wishes, whatever that kind may be, than perhaps
in any other city on earth. All is clean and tasteful,
well regulated, but without the intrusions of Ger-
many. The French, it is true, are the Chinese of
Europe, and possess an intelligence rigidly circum-
scribed by custom and locality. They lean helplessly
on institutions, have small individual power, and
little curiosity about anything which does not fall
within their usual experience. Deep insights, result-
ing in beauty, invention, or religion, are therefore
denied them. But prettiness abounds, convenience,
dignified courtesies and ceremonials. The people are
kind and attachable. Such matters are worth more
to visitors than the profounder constituents of life.
Indeed they impart better the desired sense of for-
eignness, the very restrictions of the French mind, —
its inability to move beyond the limits of its language,
land or etiquette, — quickly forcing the stranger to
feel that he is far from that country of his own which
he would for the moment forget.

Sometimes we were in new Paris, on the Rue
Galilee, just off the Champs Elysees — that match-
less avenue which more than any other city street
thrills the beholder and invites him to loiter or to sit.
There too the Bois was at hand and flight to the
country easy. Sometimes we lived in the Latin Quar-
ter — more Latin then than now — haunting Notre

SABBATICAL YEARS 199

Dame, the bookshops on the Quays, the lectures at
the Sorbonne, the admirable plays and conferences
of the Odeon, the student restaurants. Really to
know Mrs. Palmer one should see her as a merry girl
in a French patisserie or on an omnibus top. We
usually spent the morning at home, had an early
dejeuner and then for exercise went into the country,
walked the Long Gallery of the Louvre, — where one
may not sit, — looked into some church, took a seat
in a steamboat on the river, or hunted up some spot
connected with the Commune or the greater Revolu-
tion. Enlarging one's acquaintance with a foreign
language is a happy way of wasting a large amount
of time ; and this makes it one of the fittest sabbatical
occupations for a busy pair. Mrs. Palmer, however,
would occasionally turn aside from paths of rectitude
and visit schools.

This description of our modes of life in Paris
applies, mutatis mutandis, to Venice and Florence,
only that Venice was the one spot in Europe which
best met Mrs. Palmer's ideas of Paradise. She loved
it with romantic passion, walking its winding alleys,
inhabiting its churches, and sitting in its Piazza and
Academy as if all belonged to her. The Venetians
have fashioned their own world. Into it they have
admitted abundantly religion, law, and sensuous
enjoyment, and thought of these always as friendly.
Everywhere they have demanded beauty, and taken

200 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

the kind they preferred rather than the inherited
types. All this was congenial to her. Loving pictures
as she did, she prized every gallery in proportion to
the number of its Venetian masters. In the beautiful
city itself she cared as much for the works of nature
as for those of man, for in it the two ever intermingle.
Its morning and evening lights she thought lovelier
than elsewhere, as was also the foliage which at
intervals overhangs the watery streets, or the sky
sharply cut by the graceful architecture. We spent
an entire winter there, besides making shorter stays
at every possible season, living generally in an old
palace on the Grand Canal, a little beyond Sta. Maria
della Salute.

To each, however, of the years we passed abroad
we took care to assign some novel feature. This kept
the sameness refreshing. One Spring we spent in
Greece, going to Ithaca, to Delphi, and Olympia.
Greek had early been a favorite study of Mrs.
Palmer's, and she came to the enjoyment of that
unique sculpture and architecture not unprepared.
It is impossible to knock the beauty out of a piece of
marble which a Greek hand has touched. While a
fragment remains, the master is there. She at least
found no difficulty in overlooking absent heads and
legs, and easily turned her mind to the loveliness that
is left. Greek gravestones she learned to know in
Athens for the first time, and was deeply moved by

SABBATICAL YEARS 201

their method of proclaiming no grief, but resting in
some remembered scene from the life of him who had
gone. She gathered all procurable photographs of
them, as of the splendid tombs of Italy, and placed
them together in a book which she called her Grave-
yard. Yet she enjoyed Greece not merely because
the Greeks had enjoyed it, but for the same reasons
as they. Its colored soils, the noble outlines of its
heights, its atmosphere, its ever present sea, its olive
trees, intoxicated her and kept her from regretting
its generally absent verdure. She interested herself
too in its present conditions and people. Dr. Schlie-
mann was hospitable. The accomplished sister of
Prime Minister Tricoupis became her friend.

But our greatest novelty, and the one to which her
thoughts afterwards most often recurred, was our
bicycling — a sport now almost exterminated by the
exciting and lazy automobile. One year we carried
our wheels from America and, starting from Rouen,
rode through Normandy, Brittany, and parts of
Picardy and Provence ; then over the Corniche Road
from Frejus to Alassio ; we crossed the three hundred
and sixty miles of Styria and Carinthia lying between
Venice and Vienna; rode through the Black Forest
from Tubingen to Freiburg; and at the close took
some stretches of central England. Altogether our
cyclometers registered over fifteen hundred miles.
When we left home she had sat on a bicycle only three

202 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

times; but as she had the queer characteristic of
doing excellently and at once whatever she did, on
our first day in Normandy she rode eighteen miles
with entire ease.

The sport of bicycling suited Mrs. Palmer's pas-
sion for independence as did little else. Ready as her
sympathies regularly were, she was no less ready,
when the burden of the world became oppress! ve^ to
throw them all aside. Then she would renew herself
in utter freedom and isolation, afterwards coming
forth ardently social again. In her the child and the
responsible woman were ever amusingly combined.
It was the former that steered when she sat on her
bicycle. At the call of the white road she felt all ties
to be cut. The world was all before her where to
choose. She could turn to the right or left, could feel
the down-pressed pedal and the rushing air, could
lie in the shade by the roadside, visit a castle, dally
long at luncheon, gather grapes or blackberries from
the field, stop at whatever small inn might attract
at night, and for days together commune rather with
nature than with man. To preserve the fullest sense
of independence we sent forward no trunk to meet
us at appointed spots, but designed a soft bag for
the bicycle w*hich would hold supplies for three weeks.
We made our nights long, beginning to ride about
half-past nine in the morning and ending in time for
the bath and rest before dinner. We rode slowly,

SABBATICAL YEARS 203

avoiding records of more than forty miles a day, and
dismounting at every colorable excuse; our rule for
hills being that wherever a horse should walk, we
would. Nor did we practise anything like continuous
riding. A week or two on the bicycle was generally
put in between two periods of housekeeping ; though
if we happened in one of our jaunts on any specially
charming village, we lingered as long as the charm
continued. Of course we kept clear of railroads and
tourist regions, and so were able to meet the common
people in their homes and fields. Among the peasants
we learned always to make our inquiries of the
women, who are far less lumpish than the men. They
take the produce to market, supervise the children,
and in general manage the intellectual side of the
farm. In consequence they have their wits about
them and are often capable of an immediate answer.
To bring the man's mind into action requires at least
three questions.

Such were our vacation years. From them what
stores of health and courage were borne away ! What
vivid pictures were stored in memory, subsequently
to be the joy, not of solitude, but of crowded and
parted days! What happy intimacy of companion-
ship was had when two, always close in heart, but
ordinarily much separated by occupation, could for
a long period honorably make each other their sole
concern !

204 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

LETTERS

Tell us of Cambridge and Wellesley. We are
hungry for every scrap of news of them, in spite of
the bliss in which we find ourselves here. And
really in our part of Lucerne all is like the story-book
happenings. Our big sunny room has east and south
windows, and our poetical balcony, furnished with
tables and chairs, overhangs a charming garden, laid
out with rare trees and shrubs along its winding
walks, and sloping to the bright green waters of the
lake. All day below us gay little boats and busy
steamers hurry by, or float as lazily as the hundreds
of swans and ducks among them. And always the
mountains guard us. Before us is the Titlis glacier;
to the right and left Pilatus and the Rhighi. Here
we sojourn for a happy fortnight.

We have been on the Continent nearly a month ;
and our few days in England were delightful, in spite
of the rain. The fragrance of our drives and walks
in the English Lake country, our talks and readings
there, will follow me to gray hairs. London itself
was then as now suffering a deluge. We sought refuge
in the British Museum and National Gallery. In
such arks one could pass a forty days' flood com-
fortably, but we deserted them as soon as our water-
tight boots were made, and floated over to Rotter-
dam. You know how we two are always lighting on

SABBATICAL YEARS 205

good fortune. On that passage we had the only
stateroom of the boat. This gave us an easy night,
with unspeakable miseries all around. Do you grow
callous every day in Europe to the woes of humanity ?
Or do you stay awake nights with your unhappy
fellow-mortals, as helpless as they?

Our chief resting place between London and here
was Tubingen, where G. once spent two years at the
University. I wanted to know the quaint town. So
we settled for ten days at the Golden Lamb, with our
windows looking out on the Markt Platz, where
peasant women sat all day beside their fruit and
vegetable baskets. Each night the storks came home
from the fields, and with their long legs perching on
the housetops looked solemnly down on their neigh-
bors' red peaked roofs, in proper fairy story fashion.
There I had my first experience of German dinner
parties ; for the professors were most hospitable and
gave us extraordinary entertainments. Such mysteri-
ous pyramids of unknown contents, into which I un-
blushingly plunged as the guest of honor, trembling
inwardly, and without a notion of how they should be
attacked. Ought one to make the onset on the east or
west tower, or strike directly at the base ? Then the
wild efforts to discuss American and German affairs
with their English and my South German ! Well, that
week in the Fatherland was memorable ; and in spite
of the novelty of formal toasts at the dinners, they

206 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

were good dinners and the people endlessly kind and
thoughtful. In Suabia even the conductors and old
women treated me as if I were a long lost grandchild.

This fragrant green sunny valley is so fair to look
upon ! The peasant girls are raking the thick hay on
steep slopes; old women are drying their clothes in
the spicy air; cattle and goats are climbing among
the rocks for the juicy grass, and the sound of their
many bells and the cries of the herdsmen and shep-
herds come like music from afar; and always night
and day the Fiescher-Bach rushes and tumbles by
our windows on its way from the glacier just around
the shoulder of the mountain to join the river below.
It seems as if the brooks and bells were in another
world and we heard them in dreams only.

We have mounted up to this height through suc-
cessive steps. First came the valleys, with cottages
and fields; then rich green 'slopes ; a little higher,
forests of pine and fir; above these, the red-brown
heather with broken granite rocks, sometimes scat-
tered here and there, sometimes piled in high masses ;
and still above, desolations which look as if a world
had been shattered in pieces and heaped against the
sky. Making our way among millions of boulders of
granite, slate, and marble, we find patches of snow,
and finally we reach the snow fields themselves and

SABBATICAL YEARS 207

look out upon the most extensive system of glaciers
which Europe can show, — four in sight at once, —
the largest fifteen miles long. It looks like a wide
frozen river, the surface seamed and scarred, winding
its way fearfully among the craggy peaks.

On reaching Paris we went to the little native hotel
which L. mentioned and found it as pleasant as he
promised, except that we could get no sunshine there.
So G. set forth to find "the sunniest pleasantest rooms
in Paris at a merely nominal rent." I laughed when
he came home the first night, his pedometer showing
that he had walked twelve miles. The second day
he walked fourteen. But he had found an apartment
which we took for two months the instant I saw it.
I should be relieved if I could have rooms so beauti-
ful in Cambridge. They cover an entire fourth floor
— third, they call it here. You should see our pretty
parlor. It, and every room as well, has an open fire-
place. We burn soft coal and wood, and always have
the cheer of a blaze on our hearth. The carpet is
dark red and brown. At the three long windows are
white lace curtains with red hangings. We have two
red sofas, three arm-chairs, and five others all covered
with the same plush. The centre table has our cover
on it, with a bowl of dahlias in the middle. At the
side of the room is a rosewood writing desk, with con-
venient drawers ; and near the fire-place a little book-

208 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

case with our books, a blossoming plant on its top.
Tliree good pictures are on the walls, which are
themselves decorated tastefully with panels, carvings,
and mirrors. The dining room and three chambers
are no less charming.

Our servant can neither speak nor understand a
word of anything except French, but she is a creature
of so many perfections that I hesitate to catalogue
them. With Marie Louise in charge, French house-
keeping is play. We are growing fat under her pro-
viding care. She does our marketing and restricts
all extravagance. But she puts such an exquisite
flavor into her dishes as makes us grieve over her small
outlay. We have protested against two as a limit to
pieces of bread, chops, etc. I think she eats nothing
herself. We have been compelled to forbid her
cleaning the whole apartment every day, for we were
sometimes kept up at night by her labors with the
dust-cloth. She feels the deprivation, and when we
announce that we are going out to Marly or Fon-
tainebleau, she indulges in a genuine spring cleaning.
After doing everything else, she searches my clothes
to find a possible stitch to take, and takes it most
daintily. If you could see this middle-aged, never-
smiling, spotless woman and the manifold ways she
contrives for guarding us, you would be amused and
touched. She seems to love us, at least to regard us
as a pair of babes to be cared for.

SABBATICAL YEARS 209

We give some hours to study in the morning, then
in the middle of the day go out, and are generally at
home again an hour before dinner. In the evening
we read aloud. You can imagine our delightful days
in the Louvre, on the broad walks of St. Cloud,
or under the trees and along the terrace of St. Ger-
main. Whether on the Boulevards, or on the river,
in the churches, shops, theatres, or restaurants, we
are always in the midst of these throngs of merry
pleasure-loving French people. They impress me as
grown-up children who want pretty things and "a
good time," but are far more thoughtless than inten-
tionally wicked — as the Puritan regards them. And
to be amused is not the only interest of the Paris of
to-day. These people are wildly democratic. "Equal-
ity" is a passion with them. The kitchen maid
respectfully addresses the young fellow who brings
up the coal as "Monsieur." Everywhere and in
every relation of life this love of equality occurs.
The old fruit-woman at the corner expects and re-
ceives the same civility that belongs to "Madame."
The rich and the poor are found together in their
pleasures, and taking far more pleasure than with us,
I am sure. Good nature and politeness are every-
where; yet when they give way, a Frenchman is
capable of more brutality, I think, than any other
human being.

But no one can realize who does not live here how

210 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

every man, woman, and child hates Germany.
When we asked for Jaeger flannels the other day,
the clerk declared that the French did not need
German clothes. You insult a person by inquiring,
even in the mildest way, if he speaks German. The
History which the minister of education approves
for French schools closes with an appeal to the boys
to be soldiers and prepare to fight Germany, and
to the girls to maintain the same " patriotism." In
our peaceful parlor we hear the nightly cheers for
Boulanger, who lives only a few doors away. Nobody
can tell why he is so popular, except that he is
" brave " and does n't like things as they are. The
French must have somebody to adore, like a senti-
mental schoolgirl. Indeed how these Europeans, in
the mass, like to be managed and governed!

Last week the weather was so fine we took three
days in Picardy. We rode seventy-five miles on our
bicycles, one hundred and eighty on the railroad.
For cathedrals we saw Beaumont, Senlis, Noyon,
Soissons,Laon ;and for castles, Chantilly, Compiegne,
Coucy, and Pierrefonds. Oh, such delicious country,
full of happy harvesters ! It is pure joy to ride through
the rich fields. How pleasant to be so independent
of trains, to be able to take thirty miles a day of
glorious motion, seeing these beautiful scenes where
world-influencing dramas have been played ! We often

SABBATICAL YEARS 211

long to make a present of the day we are enjoying
to some one across the sea.

The chief crop of these central plains at present
is sugar beets. They are enormous, and the farmers
draw them on gigantic wagons with six white oxen
to the factories. Men, women, and children are
everywhere in the fields together, digging the beets,
burning the tops, and making holiday. When we
were riding before, the most striking thing was the
ripe buckwheat. Now the beets take their turn, and
of course great quantities of apples, potatoes, and
carrots. I wish you could see the big oxen and the
stout Normandy and Percheron horses. We stopped
at the castle where the villain lived whose wickedness
gave rise to the story of Blue-Beard. You will be
relieved to know that at last he was hung for his
cruelties.

Our Boston paper says that Catharine S. has mar-
ried Mr. T. And who is Mr. T., and is it true? If
it is true, I am glad for her with all my heart. Her
health will be better and her writing less nervous,
if once she is taken care of as you and I are so hap-
pily. Yes, my dear, I will confess that your husband
is the best man in the world, except one. But I don't
know what will happen if life goes on growing so
much better and brighter each year. How does your
cup manage to hold so much ? Mine is running over,

ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

and I keep getting larger cups; but I can't contain
all my blessings and gladness. We are both so well
and busy that the days are never half long enough.

Thursday afternoon we left Avignon, where we
had a week of great enjoyment. John Stuart Mill
and his wife are buried there, and her daughter —
now a woman of sixty — still lives in their house. I
went to see her. A friend of hers, too, took me to
meet some of the Provencal poets, so I drank tea
in a palace built before 1400, where to-day an
American lady lives whose daughter has married a
marquis. We had much talk of America. The little
daughter of the marquis sat in my lap and said she
would go home with me "where the children play in
English." I visited three girls' schools in Avignon,
and for the first time in my life got into a convent
school. The one for poor children was delightful;
over three hundred little things under seven years
of age, the sisters devoting themselves to them with-
out pay. But the other, for the daughters of the
aristocracy, was very fashionable, the teaching poor,
and no discipline.

After Avignon and a day spent in Marseilles, we
went by train as far as Frejus. Since then we have
been riding our bicycles along the Corniche Road,
nearly two hundred miles. Every inch of it has been

SABBATICAL YEARS 213

bliss, even the walk of twelve miles one day, pushing
our bicycles up hill. One night we ran. into this queer
little Italian town of Alassio, nestling between the
mountains and the sea, and found ourselves on a
noble bay, sheltered on every side, and in a hotel
which was a convent until five years ago. Our room
is the chapel, still keeping its sacred decorations
and its two long windows overlooking the unbroken
sea, which rolls within twenty feet of our sunny bal-
cony. All is so bewitching that instead of going the
next morning, as we intended, we have remained
five days, though we have only the clothes we carry
on our bicycles. We lie in the sand, we gather the
blossoming flowers, the ripe oranges and olives, and
are sure that it is June and not January. Anything
like this I have never experienced before, and I
find it unspeakably fascinating. Indeed the whole
Corniche Road is enchanting, with its perpetual
roses, its palms loaded with ripening dates, and the
blue sea under a cloudless sky. You two must cer-
tainly do it sometime. Married lovers could n't find
a prettier holiday.

Here we are in Venice looking out on the Adriatic
Sea, where the sun is setting like a great ball of fire
that almost blinds my eyes when I lift them. All the
morning that sun has been streaming into our two
pretty rooms. We are having delicious weather, clear

214 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

and soft, like a fresh Spring day at home. We sit in
the sunshine, or wander up and down the narrow
passage-ways, or float in fascinating gondolas, to
our hearts' content. Just under our windows, so close
that we see nothing between, lie rows upon rows of
vessels. Forests of masts fly all flags that Webster's
Dictionary knows and many others one imagines.
Beyond these lie ocean steamers, and then the great
and wide sea. I never felt so much abroad before.
This melancholy mermaid city seems nothing short
of a miracle; for as the eye rests on the salt green
water stretching in every direction, it is impossible
to feel that it is really shallow. Lately a road has
been carried over half a mile of water to the main-
land. As we stepped from the train it was perplexing
to find myself in a great city, yet with no sound of
horse, carriage, or any of the multitude of street
noises which we usually associate with city life. The
cabs are black gondolas, half way between a canoe
and a Wellesley boat, and on them stands the pic-
turesque Italian with his one oar, steering swiftly
around sharp corners and under low bridges which
cross the narrow spaces between high buildings on
either side. It is altogether unreal. At present we are
devoting much time to Italian. Last week we read
together an Italian book of two hundred and fifty
pages; and in odds and ends of time I have read
in English Ruskin's "Stones of Venice," HowehY

SABBATICAL YEARS 215

"Venetian Life," Sismondi's "Italy," and am half
through one of Symonds' books on the Renaissance.
It is good to read the great books about Italy while
among the scenes they discuss. How hard it will be
some day to break away from the palace where we
live and from the daily sight of the most beautiful
church and the most beautiful pictures that the world
contains! We know we ought to go south. But a
spell is on us. There is always another picture to see
of Titian or Veronese or Tintoret or Bellini or
Carpaccio, and we linger.

Mother, dear, if my memory serves me, something
important in the history of our family happened on
this day thirty-five years ago. I think I cannot be
mistaken in fixing so fundamental a date, though you
may have been too youthful to retain a distinct recol-
lection of the event. But I who profited by that mar-
riage more than any one else, by at least twenty-one
months, am heartily grateful to you for doing it, and
send my congratulations on the day.

We are keeping the festival in royal fashion, spend-
ing the perfect Spring day in the country at Hadrian's
Villa and Tivoli. All the superb morning we have
been driving among the hills and valleys and olive-
slopes and vineyards, seeing snowy mountains, rivers,
city, and plain, with now and then a Robbia in a
country church or an old convent fresco. The Sabine

216 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Mountains are on one side of us, the Alban Hills on
the other, and our road of twenty miles runs through
fresh green fields. Mr. and Mrs. P. have been with
us — he a writer, she an artist — and Mr. E. too, who
is an intimate friend of Cardinal Hohenlohe. This
Cardinal owns the beautiful Villa d' Este, and our
sculptor took us through its stately rooms and its
fascinating gardens. There we heard the nightin-
gales, singing among cypresses that are many centu-
ries old. The whole day has been a dream of delight,
one of the most interesting since we came abroad —
high praise indeed!

We have been in Rome several weeks and have
given up practically all our time to sightseeing, some-
thing which we never intend to do. G. declares that
he is ashamed of having seen so many things. We
always try to keep half our day for study and home,
and I am sure that in this way we gain more than the
sightseers. But somehow in Rome every one catches
the fever, and the number of wretched old ruins and
scandalously tawdry and dirty churches that one can
manage to gaze at and pry about is amazing ; and all
this fuss because here some old Roman set up a
column to commemorate his brutal battles, or there
some saint is imagined to have caused a spring of oil
to burst from the stones, or to have walked about
with his head in his hands among the soldiers who

SABBATICAL YEARS 217

cut it off. But we have seen so many bones of saints
and martyrs that we are now too hardhearted any
longer to glance their way.

While our bicycles are being passed from one
country to the other, I sit on a stone by the roadside
and write to you. The whole population of the village
is assembled to see what a lady with a bicycle can
mean ; and all the people are tipping my saddle and
wondering over the cyclometer, astonished that such
a little thing can measure distance. It really tells us
that we have ridden more than a thousand miles
already in France and Italy. We are now on our way
from Venice to Vienna. We ride about thirty-five
miles a day. Tuesday we were on the wide plain of
Northern Italy and visited Asolo, the poet Brown-
ing's last country home. We saw his house and gar-
den. In the Italian towns we came upon many
splendid pictures. Yesterday we reached the moun-
tain chain which divides Italy from Austria, and ever
since have been climbing up or running down hills,
following the beds of narrow streams which cut their
way down snow-peaked mountains. The streams
are very full, and the sound of mountain torrents is
always with us. It is a strange, wild country, strange
people too, so excited at seeing me on a bicycle that
the town hurries to watch us pass. As we fly by, the
women drop their baskets, cross themselves, and lift

218 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

their hands, crying, "O Madonna mia!" G. says
it is the greeting of " the new woman " by the old, and
"the new" does n't even stop to listen.

But I must tell you how we are crossing the
frontier. A little river separates the two countries,
with Pontrebba on the Italian, and Pontafel on the
Austrian side. Both ends of the bridge are guarded
by three tremendous officials, each in the uniform
of his native land, the two sets within easy talking
distance. We rode up to the three Italians, dis-
mounted, and presented our paper asking for the
eighty-five francs exacted on our bicycles when we
entered Italy, and destined to be returned when we
depart. You would suppose no event of similar con-
sequence had occurred in a century. It is impossible
to report the consultations, the expeditions to other
parts of the town, the hunting up of dignitaries that
followed. An Austrian was finally summoned from
his end of the bridge, the chief Italian swung a gun
over his shoulder, and we were led across half a mile
to the Austrian Custom House, where our bicycles
were deposited, probably to make sure they would
be out of Italy when we received our money. We
ourselves returned in procession to Italy, our hands
full of documents, and even then had to go to two
other places before the money was paid. We reached
the bridge at 9.30, and are just leaving it at 12.15.
Our Italian chief would not attend to anything for

SABBATICAL YEARS 219

half an hour, " because the train would pass then,"
so we were obliged to sit and meditate until that
event occurred. Fancy these people in Chicago!
Nirvana is the only place where they will feel really
at home. But nothing can stop the delight of the day.
It is very early Spring. The cuckoos are calling, the
cherry trees are in blossom, and the grass is at its
greenest. Here we leave dear Italy and must begin
at once to limber up our German tongues. One of
those words makes such a big mouthful that I choke
and sneeze in spite of myself.

XI

CAMBRIDGE

ON leaving Wellesley Mrs. Palmer had her first
opportunity to become a lady of leisure. Up to this
time she had been steadily under compulsion. The
desire for education, the need of earning her own
support, the demands of schools or the college with
which she was connected, laid their necessitating
hands upon her successive years and allowed her
little freedom of choice. Now such severities were
ended. She was to live in comfort, surrounded by
all the opportunities for study, society, and travel
which were especially congenial to her. Official ties
were snapped. She had performed a difficult public
work, climbing through it from obscurity to note,
and she was still but thirty-two. For most of us at
that age the tasks of life lie directly ahead ; for Mrs.
Palmer they were already behind.

And a lady of leisure of a peculiar sort Mrs. Palmer
actually became. Henceforth she did what she
pleased. I have called this last period of her career
her time of Self -Expression, because all that was
done in it sprang from the glad prompting of disci-
plined powers rather than from any pressure of out-

CAMBRIDGE

ward obligation. Her times were in her hand; her
own interests she was free to follow. This portion of
my book will show how she followed them. Pro-
foundly dear as they were, of course she followed
them with energy, and even allowed them to make
the fourth period of her life as active as the third.
But it was a voluntary and exultant activity. Who-
ever saw her during these years remarked in her new
buoyancy and a wider power. The shelter of a home
had enlarged her scope. From special labor in a par-
ticular spot she advanced to general influence in the
whole field of girls' education. The occupations of
her thirteen winters in Cambridge I relate here, but
I give them in a classified summary rather than in
detailed chronological sequence.

Underneath them all ran a rich domestic life,
though several years passed after Mrs. Palmer's
marriage before she acquired a permanent and ade-
quate home. That is something hard to find in Cam-
bridge. The University occupies the centre of the
town. Around it gather shops, churches, factories,
stables, lodging houses; but the number of private
dwellings is small. Whoever possesses one in the
college neighborhood does not readily part with it.
Those who connect themselves with the University
for the first time have ordinarily an uncomfortable
preliminary season, during which they sit at a dis-
tance, like fishhawks on a tree, spying after some-

222 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

thing to seize. On the whole, we passed this awkward
period more easily than most of our colleagues.
Between the wedding and the departure for Europe
there were but six months. During these, and for a
year after our return, we took houses already fur-
nished on Broadway and Brattle Streets. Then for
three years we occupied the Deanery of the Episcopal
Theological School, until in 1894 we established our-
selves in the historic house at the corner of the College
Yard and Quincy Street. This house, built about
1815, was bought by the College twenty years later,
was equipped as an observatory, and made the resi-
dence of its first Professor of Astronomy. Later it was
occupied successively by President Felton, Bishop
Huntington, and for thirty-three years by the saintly
Dr. Andrew Preston Peabody. We readjusted its
interior to our needs, constructing a large library
and arranging Mrs. Palmer's study and waiting
rooms so that in receiving one caller she need not be
disturbed by the coming of another. To this house
she became strongly attached. In it her complex
work was done with the utmost convenience; here
she easily assembled several hundred guests; its
plain old-fashioned comfort made shy students feel
at home ; and it was but fifteen minutes distant from
those parts of Boston to which business called her
oftenest. An old house harbors peace better than a
new one. At 11 Quincy Street Mrs. Palmer found

CAMBRIDGE 223

that peace, found too the dignified surroundings to
which her idealizing affections most naturally clung.
Nearly half her life had been passed within college
walls, until the august connection had become al-
most a part of her being. Here, among the buildings,
trees, and grounds of our stateliest university that
tie continued, but in a form which freed it from
all burdensome responsibility.

When she left Wellesley I wondered how the busi-
ness of housekeeping would suit her. Few young
married women have had so little experience of it.
For fifteen years, almost uninterruptedly since she
left her early home, she had been an inmate of some
sort of institution, where attention to the daily bread
had been the charge of some other person than her-
self. Her rooms were generally already prepared,
and the care of them, with the heating and lighting,
was delegated to an official. Her special occupations
were as remote as possible from such affairs. Indeed
in these matters I was more experienced than she,
having managed my own home for the nine preceding
years and become somewhat proficient in the simpler
forms of cookery. Whether rivalry with my accom-
plishments stimulated her, or whether success here
was simply another instance of that versatility which
usually enabled her to do with instantaneous excel-
lence whatever she was called to do, I cannot say;
but certainly almost from the beginning she showed

224 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

herself the skilful mistress of her household. She
was about as often consulted by bewildered house-
keepers on puddings, carpets, and servants, as by
teachers in regard to situations and text-books. In
all things an artist, she prided herself on the beauty
and orderliness of her home and was constantly
studying how more intelligence might be brought
into domestic methods. A few details in regard to
the daily conduct of that home will picture her
housewifery.

From the first she was our financial manager.
Whatever money was received by either of us was put
into her safe-keeping ; and it was she who then appro-
priately distributed it to tradesmen, pockets, and
banks. The skilful planning of how to extract the
largest enjoyment from a given outlay was a game
she delighted to play, and I think her favorite volume
was her classified account book. Her table, while
offering few articles at a meal, must have these
exquisitely cooked and widely varied from day to
day. Her rooms must each have their distinctive
note; in those used chiefly by herself were gathered
mementoes of her childhood and the faces of those
with whom she had since been associated. Seldom
did she order a hat or dress outright; she would
choose good stuffs, but must give them her own
individual touch. Her wardrobe, therefore, most
expressive of herself, cost her incredibly little; she

CAMBRIDGE 225

ever setting taste above expenditure, and often quot-.
ing in this connection the lines of an old poet, —

Say not then this with that lace will do well,
But this with my discretion will be brave.

In servants she was insistent on personal quality, pre-
ferring the capable green girl to the one who already
"knew it all." Such a one she would quickly attach,
carefully train, and then trust with large responsi-
bility. Each servant must have a room of her own,
be treated as a member of the household, and be
allowed to go and come at her own discretion, pro-
vided always that her work was exactly performed.
Mutual consideration was soon established; and
though Mrs. Palmer paid no excessive wages, she
was a stranger to "the servant problem." One ser-
vant was with her for ten years and others for
periods approximately long.

In all this domestic side of life she took great
pleasure, becoming a joyous expert not merely in
that cheap thing "domestic science," but in the
subtler matters of domestic art. Powers trained
elsewhere were quickly adjusted to the home and
used for the comfort of those she loved. When at
one time she was struggling with a new cook on the
subject of bad bread, and after encountering the usual
excuses of oven, flour, and yeast, had invaded the
kitchen and herself produced an excellent loaf,

226 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

astonished Bridget summed up the situation in an
epigram which deserves to be recorded : " That 's
what education means — to be able to do what
you 've never done before."

Naturally, having created so beautiful a home,
she used it liberally for entertainment, though no
sharp distinction was ever drawn between entertain-
ment and business. Three children of friends were
with us for more than a year each, and almost every
meal had also its interesting guest. With most of the
colleges of the country she had some connection;
and no week in the year passes without a wanderer
from one of them appearing in Cambridge. Gener-
ally he appeared at her table, with no great pressure
was induced to spend the night, and then what
detailed and eager talk was heard about the policies
and prospects of his college ! What feasible proposals
she would offer for its strengthening ! How fitted to
their surroundings were the candidates she named
for its instructors! Her hospitable mind admitted
no notion of colleges as rivals ; all were alike members
of the one army of education. At other meals ap-
peared the young women whose opening fortune?
required an assisting hand. There came, too, direc-
tors of her many societies and the members of in-
numerable committees. Poor people came, whose
only reason for coming was hopelessness. And here
also gathered her host of personal friends, eager

CAMBRIDGE 227

always to gaze, to listen, and to be quickened. Often
of an evening, and always on Tuesday and Sunday
afternoons, there were Harvard students, some bring-
ing notes of introduction, some already counting them-
selves her children, and easily getting their slender
claims acknowledged. With them all she talked
much, gaily or gravely, as occasion required. By
turns she was suggestive, inspiring, consolatory, or
simply amusing; ever light of touch, ready of anec-
dote, charming all and setting all at ease, while the
plainest fact was not allowed to pass without some
shining word, or the merriest jest without its hold on
reality. This perpetual mingling of sobriety and
play was hers from childhood. I was often reminded
of Shenstone's heroine : —

With her mien she enamors the brave;

With her wit she engages the free;
With her modesty pleases the grave;

She is every way pleasing to me.

Of her relations with my own work I may say that
while she assisted me in making acquaintance with
my students and had much influence over student
life in general, for philosophy itself she had no
natural inclination, its speculative side being pecu-
liarly foreign to her. She was a woman of action,
ideals, and practical adjustments. But none the less
she honored what she did not herself pursue, and
felt strongly the vital issues of the ethical doctrines

228 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

which it was mine to elaborate. With full under-
standing and sympathy she discussed the less techni-
cal parts of my studies and offered her mind as a
field for experimentation. Whatever I wrote was
submitted to her exacting taste. But in all our
intellectual companionship there was no merging;
each had his and her special interests, to which the
other came merely as a novice. I was as ignorant
of her school problems and of what was being done
for the training of girls as she of my dialectics. Her
style of speech and writing remained her own, widely
unlike mine. We prized the strength of difference
rather than that of identity, though pleased at any
parts within us which happened to be interchange-
able. Usually she took charge of the kitchen, and I
of the college; but when she was called for a time
to Chicago or elsewhere to manage a college, she left
the kitchen to me. If one of us had promised a public
address and was suddenly disabled, the other ap-
peared. Contrasted and supplemental occupations,
profound sympathy, and occasional substitutions
formed our happy bond. St. Paul says that "love
envieth not," but is glad when the loved one pos-
sesses what he lacks.

In describing the activities of her winter months
I linger long over the home and its habits, because
in her judgment — and in that also, I believe, of
those who knew her best — the roots of her power

CAMBRIDGE 229

were there. People sometimes spoke of her as a
" public character," not noticing how the phrase —
though true — blots what was most distinctive of her.
Her publicity was but an expression of her private
womanhood. She was the same person everywhere.
Led by broad popular sympathies to improve the
conditions of her sex, she preserved in a public field
the simplicity, ease, dignity, and refinement which
graced her fireside. She did not turn to occupations
outside the home because those within it were dis-
tasteful; but powers already exceptional when she
entered that home became there so refreshed,
gladdened, and enlarged that they overflowed the
usual bounds and ran forth in multitudinous
blessing. I have said in discussing our marriage
that something of this sort was from the first our
hope. And so it proved. The work begun at
Wellesley was not broken during the fifteen years in
Cambridge, but was vastly assisted by the surround-
ings of a home. What was that work? Was it as
fragmentary as it sometimes seemed, or had it inner
unity and a ground in public needs ? Before marking
out its several sections, it will be well to fix attention
for a moment on its genuine unity.

The times were critical when Mrs. Palmer ap-
peared. Social transformations were in progress.
Girls were just emerging from sheltered homes,
desirous of education and of whatever else might

230 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

help to enlarge their lives. Many feared that such
desires might dispose them to drop the quietness,
delicacy, and spiritual power which were hereditarily
theirs and to admit into their natures the ruder forces
of our turbulent world. Most social changes involve
danger. Mrs. Palmer did much to lessen this danger
and to quiet these fears. She not only opened college
doors, but she helped to fix a standard of what college
girls should be. Persuasively and in her own person
she showed how a deepened intelligence and a wider
knowledge of affairs may heighten the characteris-
tic and ancestral traits of woman and permanently
increase her charm. Each of Mrs. Palmer's under-
takings in this her culminating period represents a
single aspect of the one aim, to guide the emancipa-
tion and integrity of women, particularly as these are
affected by education. A priestly and impalpable task
it was, to become the watcher of a social transition ;
but it was an immensely important task, and one for
which she was singularly fitted. The several forms
which this aim assumed I now describe.//

In the first place she kept her allegiance to Welles-
ley, and to it gave a large amount of time. That col-
lege is governed by a large Board of Trustees, but
its immediate direction is in the hands of the Presi-
dent and a small Executive Committee. On this
committee Mrs. Palmer accepted a place, and was
seldom absent from its meetings. She had her dis-

CAMBRIDGE 231

tinct lines of policy there, but in working with others
it was her habit rather to inspire than to dictate. She
would open up a subject, state the facts, explain the
principles involved, draw attention to the essential
features of the case, and wait for others to offer their
opinions. By conviction she was patient of debate,
believing that no matter is ever really settled till all
its points are discussed. When a decision was to be
reached, she liked better to have it brought about by
the judgment of others than through her advocacy.
In deliberations with her one got the impression of
a person who has no way of her own, but who merely
joins with others in a common search for the best
way.

Such a spirit of moderation, tact, and respect for
dissenting opinions was peculiarly needed on the
Wellesley committee during her membership; for
the college was then passing through grave transi-
tions. Three presidents came successively into
office, all strong and independent women, much
unlike herself, all chosen with her approval and ever
her constant friends. Then certain arrangements of
the college made by its founders underwent con-
siderable change. Mr. and Mrs. Durant had estab-
lished and highly valued a low tuition fee, a system
of daily domestic work, "Silent Times," and fre-
quent attendance on religious exercises. As the
college grew, these provisions conflicted with more

232 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

important interests and were one after the other
removed. But much time and mutual forbearance
were needed for changes so fundamental. Mrs.
Palmer favored them all, working toward them in
company with Mrs. Durant — the sturdy defender
of her husband's plans so long as defence was likely
to effect anything ; but who, when the new order was
established, showed herself as loyal to it as to the
old. During this period, too, it became necessary
to find a new treasurer, to adopt a new system of
financial control and report, and in general to trans-
fer the college from private to public guardianship.
All this the Trustees would have found impossible
without the cooperation and magnanimity of Mrs.
Durant; but under the best of circumstances it
brought on them, and especially on the executive
committee, a burdensome amount of care. Of this
care Mrs. Palmer took her full share, as she did also
of the selection of teachers, the assistance of poor
students, and the raising of funds both for them and
for the many needs of the expanding college. What-
ever helps a girls' college she believed helps men and
women everywhere.

She was consequently ready to aid other colleges
beside Wellesley. In 1892 the University of Chicago
was founded and called us to two of its chairs; she
to be Professor of History and Dean of Women, I to
be the head of the department of Philosophy. It was

CAMBRIDGE 233

an attractive offer. Here once more pioneer work
gave opportunity for that creative power in which
she had already proved herself strong. Most of those
engaged in organizing the novel university she knew
well, and many of its Faculty were her personal
friends. She admired the wisdom of its chief founder,
who accepted no place on its Board of Trustees,
selected or rejected none of its teachers, gave no
money to its buildings, but provided liberal means
for carrying on a university so far as others might
come forward to construct it. Of course she approved
the provision of its constitution which opens to
women as well as men all its opportunities of study
and teaching; for in her judgment, and in mine too,
coeducation is the goal at which all colleges must
ultimately arrive. Yet in spite of these attractions,
and the fact that the salaries offered were three times
what we then received in Cambridge, her voice was
from the first against accepting the calls. She loved
her home. She cared little for money, having mod-
est tastes and much enjoyment, as I have already
shown, in getting large results from small outlays.
My roots, she thought, were too deep in Harvard
soil for removal to be quite honorable. She doubted
whether our scholarly opportunities in Chicago
would equal those in Cambridge, did not like to
interpose such a distance between herself and Wel-
lesley, and perhaps dreaded the wear and tear to

234 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

which she would be exposed by another absorp-
tion in college duties. We accordingly declined the
call.

But President Harper was insistent. Founding for
the first time a great coeducational university in a
city, he desired Mrs. Palmer's planning and superin-
tendence, even if she were not to be continuously on
the ground. He proposed, therefore, that she should
accept the Deanship of Women, without teaching,
and with no obligation to reside in Chicago more
than twelve weeks. The periods of her residence
might be distributed throughout the year according
to her convenience. In fact they often fell in times
of my recesses, when we could be in Chicago
together. She was to have general superintendence
of the women's lodging, food, conduct, and choice of
studies, and to select a sub-Dean to carry on the
work in her absence. This proposal she accepted for
the year 1892-93, and then, finding that measures
well begun grow strong only by watching, she some-
what unwillingly allowed herself to continue two
years more. By that time the position of the women
students was assured. They were certain to hold a
place in the university no less creditable than that of
the men. There was no need of her difficult service.
In June, 1895, she resigned, had a successor ap-
pointed, and sailed away to Europe. But her interest
in the university never ceased, nor did its gratitude

CAMBRIDGE 235

to her. A group of its friends have recently set a
chime of bells in its tower, forever to voice her praise.
Wellesley and Chicago, however, were not the only
colleges of her care. Divergent Radcliffe was coming
into existence beside her door. For a dozen years,
through a Society for the Collegiate Instruction of
Women, girls had been obtaining more or less teach-
ing from Harvard professors. In 1894 the Massa-
chusetts Legislature was asked to transform this
Society into Radcliffe College, to grant its students
degrees, and formally to attach it to Harvard Univer-
sity. In this movement Mrs. Palmer took an active
interest. It is true she thought the coeducational and
the separate colleges for women have advantages
superior to anything the segregated type can offer.
Possibly those who devised the plan of segregation
were more concerned with guarding men's colleges
from change than with enlarging woman's opportu-
nities. Evidently too this subordinated arrangement
obliges women to seat themselves, as it were, at a sec-
ond table, where the intellectual food is merely such
surplus as is not needed elsewhere. Mrs. Palmer, at
least, did not conceal from herself that such a col-
lege must always live on favors, not on rights, that
the greater part of its instruction is likely to fall into
young and inexperienced hands, and that when its
teachers are pressed for time they will withdraw from
its service and attend to the superior claims of the

236 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

men. But these inherent weaknesses did not dis-
courage her hopeful spirit. She was confident that
whatever errors the plan contained would in time be
disclosed and amended. She trusted Harvard schol-
arship, she wished to extend its influence, and she
thought that even a second table in Cambridge must
prove invigorating to hungry girls. She saw too how
in a transitional season like ours, when parents are
slowly discovering that knowledge harms girls as
little as boys, it is well to have that knowledge
offered in as wide a variety of forms as possible.
The very differences therefore between Radcliffe and
the other colleges commended the experiment to her
support.

In connecting the new college with Harvard the
question arose whether degrees should be given by
Harvard itself or by Radcliffe. Persons whose chief
interest was the education of women favored the
former ; those who were primarily solicitous for Har-
vard, the latter scheme. It soon became plain that
Harvard must decline to give the degrees unless
Radcliffe possessed at the start an endowment of
not less than $100,000. Whether they would be
given even then could not be determined until the
Spring meeting of the Harvard Corporation. In the
mean time the Woman's Education Association of
Boston, of which Mrs. Palmer was president, took
up the matter of endowment with enthusiasm, ap-

CAMBRIDGE 237

pointing her chairman of a small committee charged
to raise the contemplated sum. To this endeavor
her winter of 1893-94 was largely given. By letters,
by arranged interviews, and most of all by personal
solicitation she, in company with a friend or two,
canvassed Boston and many more distant places.
Persuasions of hers were never easy to resist, and
before the end of the winter she had obtained over
$90,000. When, however, the question came before
the Harvard Corporation, they decided by a majority
of one to require Radcliffe to give its own degrees,
President Eliot favoring the opposite policy. The
money raised by Mrs. Palmer was accordingly
returned to the subscribers. A few years later she
aided in raising $110,000 for Wellesley.

Having so strong an interest in every type of wo-
men's college, Mrs. Palmer naturally gave much time
to fostering the Collegiate Alumnae Association.
This is a league of women graduated from the better
colleges throughout the country, who are banded
together for educational and friendly purposes. It
seeks to sort the colleges which are open to women, to
fix standards of excellence, and to bring pressure to
bear on those of a low order and induce them to raise
their requirements. No college is admitted to mem-
bership which does not reach a certain grade in
entrance examinations, in number and efficiency of
teachers, in size of endowment and library, and in

238 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

conditions for the Bachelor's degree. The certificate
of membership consequently becomes proof that its
holder is a student of sound training. It is accepted
at the universities both of this country and Europe,
and admits a woman to higher study without further
examination. Mrs. Palmer was one of the original
organizers of this association, and one of its early
presidents. Throughout her life she attended its
meetings and served on its two laborious committees,
the committee on membership and the committee on
foreign fellowships ; the length of her many terms of
service in its various offices, if added together, aggre-
gating fifty-three years. Foreign fellowships she felt
to be matters of such importance that she spent
much time in sifting the candidates, corresponded
with them while they were abroad, and often raised
considerable sums for their support. Since her death
a fellowship of this sort has been founded in her
name by the Collegiate Alumnse Association; and
another, also called by her name and yielding an
income of $1000, has been put in charge of Wellesley
College.

I have mentioned the Woman's Education Asso-
ciation, a hard-working body to which Mrs. Palmer
gave many years of fruitful service. Certain public-
spirited ladies of Boston had banded themselves
together "to promote the better education of
women." By this phrase they meant not the support

CAMBRIDGE 239

of educational agencies already established, but the
more difficult business of watchfulness, invention,
and experiment. It was theirs to initiate move-
ments, to finance them for a t;me, testing them
carefully; and then when they were proved to have
worth, to turn them over to independent organiza-
tions. In this way they opened opportunities to
women in many directions previously unthought of.
Under their charge and at their cost Harvard Uni-
versity was induced to conduct a series of examina-
tions for girls graduating from preparatory and
high schools, examinations which were afterwards
put in charge of Radcliffe College. For them the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology opened its
chemical laboratories. They aided the study of
biology by providing means for seaside summer
work, out of which germ was developed the im-
portant marine station at Wood's Hole. To them
too were due the beginnings of the training of dis-
trict nurses, the study of home economics, the diet
kitchen, emergency lectures, sloyd, travelling li-
braries. They founded foreign fellowships, looked
after city schools, the vacations of working girls, the
poor, the deaf, the trees on Boston Common — in
short interested themselves in all those matters
where women's watchfulness can increase the in-
telligence, beauty, and dignity of a city.

In 1891 this society had fallen into decay. Its

240 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

meetings were slenderly attended and the question of
disbanding arose. Finally it was decided to continue
if Mrs. Palmer would accept the presidency. It was
usually her habit to listen too readily to calls of this
sort, and mine to be fierce in opposition. Her kind
heart was so easily solicited that for her protection
a certain savagery was sometimes necessary. But in
this case our parts were reversed. I saw in the soci-
ety a power which, if properly directed, might pro-
duce much; but she proved strangely obdurate. By
degrees it appeared that, while she did not know
these ladies, she imagined them rich, cold, and fash-
ionable, likely to be alarmed over woman suffrage
and coeducation, " not at all her kind." She, a Wes-
tern girl, could never work well with people of that
sort, she said, nor could they possibly have any liking
for her.

I hardly know how she came at last to accept their
presidency for a single year; but once in, she was
unanimously reelected in nine successive years. She
herself soon discovered her mistaken estimate, and
nowhere did she ever find a company more loyal or
congenial. The Association sprang into vigorous
life. Its membership enormously increased, its
meetings were largely attended; and while wide
differences of opinion continued among its members
over the proper scope of woman's activity, all shades
of belief were respected and its committees aided

CAMBRIDGE 241

pretty diverse causes. Where Mrs. Palmer was,
quarrelling was usually difficult, frankness and mu-
tual consideration easy. But she worked hard. I
find in her notebooks memoranda of six public meet-
ings and six executive committee meetings a winter,
at all of which she presided. For the public meetings
subjects must be selected and notable speakers
obtained. And though no one could have been more
efficiently supported than she, it was inevitable that
much of the care of planning the varied work of the
Association should fall upon her. The year before
she went abroad for the last time, she insisted on her
resignation being accepted, for she did not think it
well that a society should be too long under a single
leader.

And since in passing I have mentioned woman's
suffrage, perhaps I shall save Mrs. Palmer from
misconception if I indicate more precisely her atti-
tude toward that heated question. Both she and I
were members of the Equal Suffrage Association
and had no doubt that eventually women will vote
as naturally and with as little disturbance to the
community as do men. She knew many of the lead-
ing suffragists and admired them for their refinement,
their patience, and their readiness to bear abuse in
the public interest. Such dispositions she counted
admirably feminine. Whenever she came home after
meeting sensible Mary Livermore, or sweet-voiced

242 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Lucy Stone, or perpetually youthful Julia Ward
Howe, a new nobility seemed communicated to her-
self. Yet she did not appear on their platforms nor
press the legislature to grant their great request.
While never concealing her sympathies, and agree-
ing with a remark made to her by Phillips Brooks,
that " it frightened him to see what civic govern-
ment had come to, unaided by women," she felt
that the movement toward suffrage was advancing
with great — perhaps with sufficient — rapidity.
She was eager, before it reached its conclusion, to
give women juster minds, sounder bodies, more
equable nerves, and a clearer consciousness of them-
selves as something more than pretty creatures of
society. These were the important matters ; suffrage
but an auxiliary, though worthy, crown. It could
wait, they could not. Then too these were the in-
terests specifically intrusted to her, and into the
furtherance of them she threw herself with a whole-
hearted zeal which was not easily diverted to side
issues.

xn

CAMBRIDGE (CONTINUED)

IN 1889 Mrs. Palmer was appointed by Governor
Ames a member of the Massachusetts State Board of
Education. This position she held during the re-
maining thirteen years of her life, being reappointed
by Governor Greenhalge and Governor Crane, until
she became the senior member of the Board. The
Board consists of eight members and has direct con-
trol of the normal schools only; but indirectly and
through oversight it influences all the public instruc-
tion of the state. At its instance new legislation is
initiated or, still more important, prevented. In the
annual report of its secretary statistics of the schools
are given and their condition elaborately set forth.
It employs half a dozen agents to visit the schools
of the isolated sections, to learn about their strength
and weakness, and to give friendly advice to the
teachers. Under their direction some twenty -five
Teachers' Institutes, a sort of migratory normal
school, are hejd each year. At these the teachers of
the country towns, for the most part women, assem-
ble for acquaintance, criticism, and guidance. Long

244 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

regular meetings of the Board are held each month ;
special meetings as often as business requires.

To this oversight of the public schools Mrs. Palmer
devoted an incalculable amount of time, tact, and
experience. She visited, corresponded, interviewed,
served on committees, appealed to the legislature,
and with such success that at her death the normal
schools, and to a great extent the country schools also,
had been reorganized and brought to an efficiency
unknown before. In 1902 the Secretary of the
Board could truthfully write that "in qualifications
for admission to its normal schools no state has yet
adopted standards so high or so satisfactory."

No one would profess that these important changes
were due to Mrs. Palmer alone. That was seldom
true of any of her undertakings. I have a constant
difficulty in narrating what she did, because it is
always tangled with what others did and cannot
be separately assessed. From the beginning her
public career was one of association and of work
accomplish sd in groups. Nothing pleased her more
than so to escape observation and, while giving of
her best, to have it merged in the indistinguishable
best of others. On the State Board too she found
strong colleagues and a ready spirit of cooperation.
My only method therefore of describing this labori-
ous section of her life is to set down the improve-
ments in the schools which were effected during her

CAMBRIDGE 245

term of office, and to say that in these improvements
her prudent mind, persuasive tongue, and resource-
ful courage bore no inconsiderable part.

During her time the Massachusetts Normal Schools
were increased from six to ten, and all the original
six were equipped with new buildings. To get the
bills passed, locations selected, plans of buildings
drawn and executed for ten great plants, is no slight
job. Faithfulness in public service involves a good
many plodding hours. But the internal reconstruc-
tion was more significant still. Its successive steps
were, I believe, the following. In 1893 the permanent
Secretary of the Board — a devoted man, of some
limitations, who had kept the old system steady for
seventeen years — retired, and the earlier concep-
tion of a normal school as a place of general
education which might well be substituted for the
high school came to an end. Thenceforth only
high school graduates were admitted to the normal
schools, where they immediately began to devote
themselves to professional study. Before, students
had been allowed to end their work in winter or
summer; for the future a single graduation in June
was fixed, and the course was solidly organized with
reference to a definite date. More careful examina-
tions for entrance and graduation were established.
The traditional period of study had been but two
years. In 1897 the schools at which Mrs. Palmer

246 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

was a visitor, Bridgewater and Hyannis, had both
lengthened their courses, and in that year a gen-
eral vote was passed permitting the visitors and
principal of any normal school to add to its course
a third year of study and practice. It will be under-
stood too that these larger changes were accompanied
by a multitude of impalpable ones, in short by a
general elevation of scholarly ideals. And this spirit
was the more readily brought about because of an
excellent provision for personal contact which had
always existed. By a rule of the Board each of its
members has two schools under his or her immediate
charge. These he is expected frequently to visit, to
become acquainted with their needs and teachers, to
preside at their graduations, and to write an annual
report on their condition. Membership on the State
Board of Education, though unpaid, is no sine-
cure.

I have said that the Board did not confine itself
to normal schools. In the year that Mrs. Palmer
joined it a bill was passed encouraging the employ-
ment by all country schools of superintendents
instead of local committees, allowing neighboring
towns to combine in employing such a superinten-
dent, and furnishing grants from the state treasury to
meet part of the expense. A more important measure
was carried in 1891 and greatly extended in 1894.
This opened free high schools to our whole popu-

CAMBRIDGE 247

lation, for it provided that a child in any town where
there is no high school may claim free tuition at the
school of a neighboring town. In 1894, too, examina-
tions were established under the State Board to test
the qualifications of candidates for teachers in the
elementary schools. The following year manual
training, of a type to be approved by the Board, was
required in all high schools. The general aim of
these changes was to put within the reach of the
country child opportunities for development similar
to those which the city child enjoys. In all this bene-
ficent upbuilding of the schools Mrs. Palmer was a
tireless worker. In view of what she did, her grateful
colleagues have entered on their records the sense
of loss her death occasioned to the Commonwealth
and have added that always "her first concern was
for the children of the state, that they should have
the best facilities for the acquisition of knowledge,
the training of their intellectual powers, and the
development of their characters; her next was for
the teachers, especially those in the humbler places,
that everything should be done to make their calling
comfortable and dignified. She was courageous
before committees of the legislature in advocating
the measures deemed wise by the Board and in seek-
ing to avoid the evils of mischievous legislation."
But how heavy a burden this work for the state laid
on her will easily be understood.

248 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

It was during her membership on this board that
she came forward in defence of the schools against
improper temperance teaching. One of the more
extreme temperance organizations attempted to put
text-books into the schools which should paint the
effects of alcohol in colors dark enough to terrify all
users. Mrs. Palmer believed these books to be pleas,
and not scientific statements. She thought them
exaggerated, unfitted to train a child's sense of truth,
and therefore unlikely in the long run to effect their
purpose. With that purpose she was in hearty agree-
ment. She believed it had been proved that alcohol
is physically injurious ; she knew that it had a closer
alliance with human misery than any other agent
known to man; and both she and her parents had
long supported legal control of the traffic. Yet with
her usual courage she faced misconception, led the
State Board in opposing the measure, fought it for
several weeks in legislative committees, and finally
killed the bill. One of her colleagues has said, "She
was the most persuasive debater I ever knew."

Much time during the winters of 1891 and 1892
was given to preparing for the Columbian Exposition
at Chicago. To plan and conduct there an exhibit for
Massachusetts a board of managers was appointed
by the Governor, and of the five constituting it Mrs.
Palmer was one. Several meetings of this board
were held each month. There was a building to be

CAMBRIDGE 249

constructed, exhibits to be gathered, loans of his-
torical articles to be solicited, public interest to be
aroused. The managers had the aid of a pecu-
liarly efficient executive commissioner; but as Mrs.
Palmer at this period was often in Chicago on uni-
versity duty, no little responsibility at the fair grounds
fell upon her. With the opening of the fair social
functions began. Then too Massachusetts made
education an important feature of its exhibit, and
this required the special oversight of Mrs. Palmer.
Partly through her influence the state collections on
this subject were afterwards gathered into a perma-
nent educational museum. On the whole, Massa-
chusetts made an exceptionally complete and beau-
tiful showing at the fair; but it was managed with
such watchfulness and regard for public interests
that at its close the managers were able to turn back
into the state treasury more than a fifth of the not
large appropriation voted by the legislature.

When the fair was projected many women's organ-
izations throughout the country thought the occasion
a favorable one for showing what had recently been
accomplished by their neglected half of our race.
They accordingly equipped a building with an ex-
cellent exhibit of the products of women's work,
extending all the way from the nursery to the fine
arts. But Mrs. Palmer did not join them. In her
view the dignified position of man ancl woman is in

250 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

comradeship, and not in places apart. She gladly
saw the exhibits of Wellesley and Radcliffe installed
beside those of the men's colleges, and took even more
satisfaction in what the coeducational colleges could
show.

To several other boards she gave brief terms of
service. For many years she was one of the two
hundred and fifty corporate members of the American
Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, in
company with only six other women. Soon after she
came to Cambridge, she was made President of the
Woman's Home Missionary Association and found
in its wide affairs a happy blending of her religious,
charitable, patriotic, and educational aims. Its work
is largely among women and children. Into the out-
lying parts of our country, where agencies of civiliza-
tion are few, it carries material aid, intellectual
instruction, and divine hopes. Such a body needs
from time to time the impulse of a fresh, though
experienced, executive; and this it found in Mrs.
Palmer. During her period of office contributions
were increased and stolid audiences stirred to help-
fulness by her moving accounts of hardship and
heroism. But to remain at the head of this congenial
organization would have removed her too far from
the business of education for which she was specifi-
cally trained. She therefore held the presidency for
only three years, remaining however a vice-president

CAMBRIDGE 251

throughout her life. It was often her way, when she
was unable to engage continuously in tasks which
she counted important, to throw herself into them
for a time and, after imparting her own enthusiasm
and business methods to those about her, to leave
on their hands the execution of what she had planned.
Perhaps her most useful characteristic was this
ability to inspire and to deputize.

When the war with Spain was over, a strangely
friendly feeling toward that country appeared
among our people. On our streets one could hardly
say which was the more popular admiral, Dewey or
Cervera. To show kindness where we had been
obliged to use force, and to offer help to a nation
trying to extricate itself from bonds of the past, was
the desire of the hour. Everybody felt it. To the
Cubans in 1900 Harvard opened freely its lecture
rooms, and Mrs. Palmer her home. The sixteen
Cuban girls who spent the summer there were under
the charge of a remarkable woman, Mrs. Alice
Gordon Gulick. After many years of work in Spain
as a missionary, she had laid the foundations at San
Sebastian of an International Institute designed to
give Spanish girls such opportunity for advanced
instruction as is offered in our colleges and academies.
She knew very well that intellectual desires among
women were as yet hardly astir in Spain, and that
the work of awakening them would be a long one.

252 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

It was foreseen that most of the necessary funds
must come from America. But Mrs. Gulick had
much of Mrs. Palmer's patient and stimulating
power, and already had made for herself something
of a name in Spain. When the war was over the
International Institute was reorganized, Mrs. Palmer
becoming its president and Admiral Sampson one
of its directors. Grounds and a building were ob-
tained in Madrid, money for further development
was solicited, the girls' colleges of this country were
pledged to aid, and one or two slender classes were
graduated. Just as the prospects of ultimate success
were bright, Mrs. Palmer died, and her death was
soon followed by that of Mrs. Gulick, exhausted in
the cause. But enough had already been accom-
plished by these ardent women to mark the path
along which others might safely carry onward the
intended gift to Spain.

Not until the first half of the nineteenth century
did it occur to Americans that girls as well as boys
wrould profit by the higher education. Even then
nothing so revolutionary as college training was
planned; but a peculiar sort of advanced school,
called a seminary or academy, began to appear in
which it was sought to " finish " a girl by giving her
just that amount of acquaintance with intellectual
things which would quiet her mind without upset-
ting it, and without in any way damaging her attrac-

CAMBRIDGE 253

tion for man. One of the earliest and best of these
venturesome schools was Bradford Academy, thirty
miles from Boston, From 1804 to 1836 it admitted
boys and girls; after 1836, girls only. For more than
half a century it had an honorable career, but then
declined until its numbers were insufficient to main-
tain its plant. Such schools almost inevitably move
toward decay and by a kind of natural development
tend to supersede themselves. The rising desire for
knowledge which they meet and stimulate passes
beyond them; and unless they are readjusted to
modern conditions, they cease to hold the place in
the community which was once rightfully theirs.
Bradford reached such a crisis in 1900, when its
despairing trustees turned to Mrs. Palmer. They
wanted her to enter their board and join in an effort
of resurrection. In view of the amount of her other
work, she hesitated ; but at last, finding that the first-
requisite for a successful school, a strong head, could
not be had unless she became a trustee, she con-
sented. For the two years before she died Bradford
was one of her principal cares. During this time it
passed from obscurity to a degree of public favor
as great as it had ever known. Able men and women
joined its board of trustees; its methods of study
were modernized; its teachers were increased and
their salaries raised ; its debt was checked ; it attracted
as many students as its rooms could hold ; and a way

254 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

was prepared for the enlargement which has gone on
since her death. In this case, as in many others, the
remarkable results cannot be called hers. Many
earnest men and women joined in producing them.
But wherever she came, earnest men and women
were pretty sure to appear and to find such success
in their undertakings as they had previously believed
impossible.

When I was in Venice in the summer of 1905, I
needed help in a little Italian business. Learning
that a certain lady might furnish it, I applied to her.
She doubted if she had the necessary time. I pressed.
Though she spoke no English, she said she had some
acquaintance with America and began to inquire
who I was. I reported myself a Harvard professor,
but she remained obstinate. Incidentally I men-
tioned that my wife was formerly president of
Wellesley College. Then all barriers went down. Was
I the husband of Alice Freeman Palmer? She was
adored in Italy. Poor Italians coming to America
had been badly plundered. Attempts had been made
in several cities to start a society for their protection,
but with little success, until in Boston it had been
suggested that Mrs. Palmer should head the move-
ment. Then difficulties disappeared. I was obliged
to say that I knew nothing of all this. Only two inci-
dents connected with it could I subsequently recall.
One day, in the year she went abroad for the last

CAMBRIDGE 255

' time, I picked up from her desk a circular appealing
for the protection of Italian immigrants. Making
some slurring remark about the absurdity of sending
such things to an educational expert, I tossed the
paper down. She was silent. A little later a letter
came, addressed to her as president of the league
for the protection of Italian immigrants. Then I
broke into hot remonstrance. Was she, when already
strained by Bradford and much else, so reckless as
to go outside her province and take up something for
which she had no special knowledge or fitness ? She
glanced up from her writing and gently said that I
was taking things quite too seriously. She did not
usually travel far from her own field, nor had she
any idea now of giving important time to outside
affairs. These people certainly were in a pitiful case,
and some of her friends had asked her to lend her
name for their aid. That was all. She might preside
at a public meeting or two, but could give little
further attention to the matter. She never mentioned
the subject again. How much she may have done I
do not know to-day. But three years after she had
left our earth I came on the tracks of her quiet good
deeds in far-away Venice.

Being known to have uncommon administrative
talents and entire readiness to place them at the ser-
vice of whoever needed them, she became during
these years in Cambridge a kind of educational

256 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

adviser. Schools and colleges all over the country
turned to her in their perplexities, seldom in vain.
She knew the right candidate to recommend for
professor, dean, trustee, or even president, and
she chose him with singular adaptation to his en-
vironment. In discussing problems of administration
she was ingenious in suggestion, divining by a kind
of instinct what would or would not work under the
given circumstances. Only the circumstances must
be actual, in order to bring out her best powers of
judgment. Give her a theoretic problem in educa-
tional tactics, and you might find her uninterested
and get a commonplace reply. But let her feel a
living school or college in difficulty, and she would
almost immediately perceive some shrewd way out.
This dangerous sagacity overwhelmed her with cor-
respondence, a correspondence so personal that she
generally preferred to conduct it with her own pen.
As soon as she entered the house she sat down at her
desk, where she remained pretty steadily until sum-
moned by callers. Calls of a formal sort she did not
herself make, but only calls of business and occa-
sionally of refreshment. During one of her busiest
winters she spent half an hour each week with the
two children of a Boston friend. Throwing herself
on the floor, she built block houses with them, told
stories, or dallied with Noah's Ark, until the clock
announced a committee meeting. But calls on her-

CAMBRIDGE 257

self were regarded as even more sacred than letters.
She reserved an afternoon a week for them, besides
having them distributed through all other days.
Nobody was dismissed briefly. By her fireside one
got the impression that time was lazily abundant. I
think she did not know a bore when she saw him —
and she saw him under every guise. Sometimes he
appeared as the crazy schemer, anxious to hitch his
rickety wagon to her auspicious star. Even then,
while protected by her own good sense, she would
not damage that self-confidence which was his only
possession. These direct contacts with persons
through calls and letters she valued extremely; and
large as was the draft they made on her time, they
were probably worth while. To them she had been
disciplined at Wellesley, and by them she recreated
many a human soul.

I have said nothing about her public speeches, for
the truth is I have rarely heard them. Whenever she
spoke I was obliged to have an important engagement
elsewhere. Her banishment of me was not through
timidity, I think. Few speakers have so little of that.
But in addressing an audience, she used to say, she
must speak to all and not to any single one among
them. Yet again and again some obscure person from
her audience has told me that it seemed as if all she
said was intended for him alone, such penetrating
intimacy was in her words. Quietly they fell, as if in

258 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

her own library; the simple language touched with
a strange veracity, the clinging voice modulated so
that the farthest auditor listened with pleasure ; while
the swift sentences unfolded her theme smoothly, tact-
fully, often humorously; anecdote, argument, home-
thrust, or thrilling passage within easy command,
and all welded together so solidly and with so little
self-consciousness that at the close it seemed im-
possible to take any other view of the subject than
the one presented. President Angell has said that
"few speakers have in so large measure as she that
magnetic unanalyzable power, divinely given now
and then to some fortunate man or woman, of cap-
tivating and charming and holding complete posses-
sion of assemblies from the first to the last utterance."
Rarely was she fatigued while speaking. She was
too much absorbed for that, and she followed what
was said as eagerly as any who listened. But she
ordinarily came home despondent. To my inquiry
how things had gone, " Wretchedly," she would say.
" Why did you let me accept that invitation ? " And
just before an address she was often equally down-
hearted. She would come hurrying into the house,
saying she had a speech to make in Boston the next
hour and nothing to make it of. What should she do ?
And how foolish she had been to promise it three
months before ! In later years these things gave me
little alarm ; for I found her speeches were not made

CAMBRIDGE 259

ex tempore, but ex omni tempore, from a rich experi-
ence and with a delicate sense of literary form. Her
best place for preparing them was on the street, in
contact with people, and before an audience. But in
the early years I did not understand these inspired
processes, and thought my wooden ways universally
applicable. Shortly after we married she had an
address to make of more than usual importance.
When the time was only a month distant, I asked if
she had selected her subject? She said she should
do so soon. After another fortnight I began to press
on her the importance of making notes. But callers
happened to be numerous just then and commit-
tees urgent. When but three more days were left, I
became positively miserable and made her about
equally so. She shut herself up in her room the last
day and spent its wretched hours in fruitless medi-
tation. I saw when she left me for the hall that she
was thoroughly disorganized, and she told me — I
believe truthfully — that she went to pieces on the
platform. Several persons inquired of me what had
been the matter that day with Mrs. Palmer. I knew
too well: the trouble was meddling I. Henceforth
I trusted her temperament, and I do not think she
ever again made so bad a failure.

From her notebooks I learn that there were years
in which these public addresses ran as high as forty.
Seldom would they average less than one a fort-

260 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

night. Many weeks contained several. She enjoyed
them all, as she did everything; enjoyed meeting the
people after the lecture, enjoyed inspecting the schools
or towns where she spoke, enjoyed managing a de-
mure country audience and conducting it decorously
to a smile. Her subjects were generally taken from
some phase of girls' education, occasionally from her
experiences abroad or at home, or from a book she
had been reading. I believe the majority of her
addresses were unpaid, as were all the employments
recorded in this chapter with the single exception of
the Chicago deanship.

Such were some of the larger occupations of Mrs.
Palmer's busy winters. The lesser ones I leave un-
named. Each autumn, in company with the Catholic
priest, she engaged in that temperance campaign
by which Cambridge has held unshaken for a long
series of years its policy of No License. In each of
the later Springs there were vacation schools to be
organized and suitable play-grounds to be provided.
Once a fortnight came the merry suppers of her
sewing society, the ancient Cambridge " Bee." Each
Friday Harvard students were met in Brooks House
by Faculty wives ; each Saturday in Boston the clever
girls of the College Club expected her, their presi-
dent for two years, at their afternoon tea. But every
one knows how the occupations which devour time
are either those petty matters which keep our hum-

CAMBRIDGE 261

drum world in motion, or else the erratic incalculable
affairs which break into our regularities to-day and,
because not likely to appear to-morrow, do for the
moment claim exclusive attention. Of either we keep
no chronicle. Yet a single serious one of the latter
sort deserves mention. It fell on Mrs. Palmer in
November, 1898, and cost her most of that winter.
As she stepped from a street car opposite her door,
a bicycle rider whirled round a neighboring corner
and, before either could pause and with little fault
on either side, struck her squarely, dashing her head
against a paving stone. Complete consciousness did
not return for twelve hours, and for a time perma-
nent injury to the brain was feared. During the slow
recovery she was much touched, and queerly sur-
prised, by the expressions of sympathy which came
to her from all parts of the country. Weakness re-
mained for about a year, and her dark hair began to
turn gray. But rest is medicinal, and Mrs. Palmer
was not without the important ability to shirk. At
the right moment she could sew, play, or take refuge
in Boxford, leaving letters unanswered and commit-
tees unattended. Courage, a quiet mind, and a little
nonchalance will heal much. By the time of her
death all effects of the accident had passed away.
This account of Mrs. Palmer's busy winters may
easily convey an erroneous impression. It is intended
to be descriptive merely, not didactic. In it I have

262 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

tried to depict Mrs. Palmer's working season, not to
offer a program for persons in general. Let some
women read the account with horror, rendered
doubly thankful that they were born for the drawing
room and easy chair. Let others be quickened in
their own diverse professions and enter into them
with the greater devotion because of Mrs. Palmer's
labors. Let the plain housekeeper learn here how
even under pressure one may keep cool, happy, and
hardly in haste. Let each one draw from this story
whatever moral it has for him or for her. With such
uses of it I am not concerned. My business is simply
to set forth a nature somewhat unusual, endowed
with great powers whose exercise brought constant
pleasure; endowed with a heart which could not be
happy alone; with an originality that struck out its
own ways of working and freshened every little act
along its path ; and with a piety that hourly hungered
and thirsted after righteousness. In this season of
what I have called her self-expression, delight and
duty moved hand in hand. Each heavy-laden morn-
ing opened to her its opportunities and sent her forth
gladly to meet its "good times." She would certainly
never have wished others to follow in her track, but
only to be earnest and joyous in their own. Laziness
and conventionality she did indeed abhor, and
thought most people only half awake. She liked to
live in every fibre of her being, and so she vitalized

CAMBRIDGE 263

all around. Yet her capacious life is only half re-
ported in this chapter. As she conceived it, it was to
hold both cares and carelessness. The prodigal win-
ters of Cambridge were rendered possible by the
supplemental peace of Boxford. To that contrasted
spot let us now remove.

LETTERS

Is n't it strange that now in September, just after
coming from abroad, I should be passing through
Wellesley on the opening day of the College ? There
all must be turmoil and bustle, and ordinarily I
should be going to the waiting work. Now I am
flying to peaceful Boxford, with no wish to turn back
to the old days. Yet as I speed along the familiar
way, and my train at last dashes past the station,
leaving the college towers in. the distance, my feelings
are too mixed to analyze. I only know that there is
in them no touch of regret that the train does not
leave me there. You are better than any college; to
be your wife a higher position than the princess held
in the days before you came and made her a queen.

This morning as I sat at work here at home Dr.
F. threw open the door, led in an invalid girl whom
he has been watching for several weeks, and said,
" Lizzie is nineteen to-day, and I thought she would
like to see the pretty things you brought from Eu-

264 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

rope." She has been holding the white lace dress
in her lap all the afternoon. Her soft black eyes
followed me about like Stella's, and her cough was
sadly familiar. Her mother has just died of consump-
tion, and she cannot live through the winter. When
she went away, she put out her thin hands and said,
" You have been very good to me. Won't you forget
that you never saw me before, and let me kiss you ? "
Oh dear, how sad the world is ! Why can't I put the
white lace on her pretty form and send her out to
find a lover like mine, and health and happiness with
him?

I have missed you again. All day I have been
presiding at the annual meeting of the Home Mis-
sionary Board in Park Street Church, the largest
meeting the Association has ever held. At its close
we contributed $800 to send another teacher to
Dakota. I would gladly make an appointment for
the morning ; but I returned from New York late last
night, and was at this meeting from nine until five
o'clock to-day. A pile of letters demands immediate
answers, and to-morrow at three o'clock the Ex-
ecutive Committee of Wellesley meets in Boston.
Before or after that meeting I shall try to find you.

This is the first time I have been up long enough
to write a note since Saturday. Last week I took a

CAMBRIDGE 265

heavy cold, and perhaps I was tired. But I am all
right now, or soon shall be. Your little card to-night
brings tears to my eyes. I must see you. If I were n't
afraid it would be better for you to have no one
under your roof except your ownest ones, I should
surely, surely, be with you at once. I believe I could
smooth the aches out of your head and put you to
sleep as if you were a little child. I know how, and
love you enough to be able to do it. Won't you tell
me something I may do for you ? May I come some
day and tell you a pretty story?

But no! As I write, I succumb. I shall go to-mor-
row. Tell your watchers and defenders that I won't
speak, not a word ! I '11 only look ; can't they trust me ?
Did they ever hear me talk much ? Don't they know
that I haven't any ideas left ? Besides, I have a cold,
and the doctor does n't allow me to say anything. I
want to receive the pretty cushion you have made
for me, stuffed with love and sewed with tenderness,
from the very hands that made it. My head aches
for it, and my heart — well, Longfellow said his was
"hot and restless." Perhaps that is what I should
say of mine if I were a poet. It is n't prudent for me
to go out to-day — but to-morrow ?

The time draws near for your speech. I am glad
it comes on the first day of the festival, before you
get tired. Then you will have it off your mind. Keep

266 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

yourself fresh and calm until you have spoken, and
then you can mingle with the people. What are you
going to wear? You must tell me all about it when
it is over, and you have had one good night's sleep.

As for the speech itself, it will make all the differ-
ence in the world how you say it. If you are heard
distinctly, and your manner is cordial and earnest
and unaffected, it will be a success. I would break
up the first sentences a little. A speech is more effec-
tive if its early sentences are short. But this is a
good one. I have thrown in a few quotations which
I thought would be telling. Use them or not, as you
please.

How in the world did you learn about Chicago?
I trusted no whisper would reach you until I could
speak. And I have been in bed for two weeks, am
indeed just crawling about to-day. How I have
longed for Florida or any haven of escape from
Cambridge winds and dust ! So I have planned little
since President Harper was here three weeks ago.
I have n't been willing to worry anybody in case we
should not accept. But about this we ourselves don't
know yet. We shall probably go to Chicago next
week, during Harvard's Easter recess, look the
ground over, and then decide as soon as possible.
Of course I need n't say that we don't want to go.
For almost every reason we prefer to stay just where

CAMBRIDGE 267

we are. Undoubtedly it would be pleasanter and
more useful to have $12,000 a year instead of four.
And there are superb chances of work out there —
how superb people here don't understand. What
shall we do?

I am sorry to hear you speak sadly of your life
and its small results, though what you say finds an
echo in all our hearts when we stop to think of the
gulf between our aspiration and accomplishment.
The one comfort is that we do not know much about
that accomplishment. I fancy you do not see your
child grow from Sunday to Sunday. The child her-
self does n't know that she has grown at all. But
with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a
thousand years as one day. And indeed I wonder
what more duties you could ask than those you are
fulfilling so bravely. In the end I believe your town
will be a better place because you live in it; and if
so, all Maine and New England and our struggling
world, that swings so slowly onward. Take heart,
and let God bless all your life as wife and mother
and daughter and friend and neighbor. You can't
help being a strong influence quite unconsciously.

But consciously also you may help to think out
help for many. Especially now as a mother, you can
take thought for the children all about you and see
that they have wholesome surroundings to grow in.

268 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

That is much on my mind of late. We comfortable
women should do more than merely give to charities,
hospitals, etc. We can keep the streets and school-
houses clean and make half the diseases vanish.
From our own blessed homes we can help to make
the whole city a happy home for the little children
who now hardly have homes at all. Why, what a
fortunate woman you are ! If I had a little daughter,
it seems to me I should be proud to devote my whole
time to her and her father and her home, and to
sweetening her native town for her to live in.

But I am glad you are taking up music and are
reading French and Dante. All this will keep a girl's
heart in you, and an open mind, and make you
fresher and gladder in your home. You will want
your daughter to feel that you are a student too,
when she becomes one, and that the learning is never
done as long as we are in God's wonderful world.
What a difference it will make when all our mothers
have such relations with their children, besides the
life of love !

We have been talking over your letter, and feel
pretty certain that you ought not to give up your
excellent place and devote yourself to your brother
and his child. That would not be fair either to your-
self or to him. He ought not to allow it. In the
nature of things his plans must be very uncertain,

CAMBRIDGE 269

while this is a critical period in your life. If just at
your age you abandon your present opportunity for
large influence and usefulness, withdrawing from
scholarly work and surroundings, you will find after
a few years that you cannot take it up anew. He in
the mean time may marry again. He ought to be
free to do so. But in that case you will be left without
occupation or interest. I have seen this happen pain-
fully often. No ! Go on making your life as strong
and valuable as you can. Have Nellie with you for
a while and then put her into a good school. By and
by that will be the very best thing for her. An only
child needs school life earlier than other children.

Your present opportunity is an admirable one.
Of course you must engage in it prudently, taking
care of your health all the time. But when you are
occupied with so beautiful a piece of work, your
health is likely of itself to grow firmer. You seem to
have been trusted as few women are ; and that is " a
call." It is a great thing to have won such confidence.
It constitutes a capital. Into this work you can gather
all your past experience and carry it straight on.
You must not "shrink before the bigness of the
task." That is what Wellesley has been trying to fit
her daughters for, and you must not fail her when
a chance for leadership comes. This is a remarka-
ble offer, and in that very fact lies large promise of
success. Of course no one can decide for you, espe-

270 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

cially if you feel no inner inclination. To me you
seem well fitted. So many college women have no
gift for executive work that those who have are the
more necessary, if that important work is to be
done.

I see you hesitate about abandoning your studies
for a higher degree. Many young men and women
are making a fetich of the Ph.D., letting splendid
chances go by, as if that were an end in itself. It is
a sad mistake, both for them and for society in gen-
eral. Unless you have some definite scheme in mind,
of long and patient research, you will not bring out
results of consequence. Studying interesting ques-
tions among pleasant people is always agreeable,
but it does n't make a life. My impression is that you
are enough like me to prefer active work and direct
influence to the solitary scholar's career. If I am
right, you should not sacrifice a great opportunity
for service, in case it appeals to you, for a little more
lingering in lecture rooms and libraries.

A friend said to me the other day that women are
already so occupied with the higher duties of life
that they have no time to attend to political duties.
She thought political duties would interfere with
the proper execution of these higher ones, and rightly
insisted that no such interference must be allowed.
What then are the political duties? What are the

CAMBRIDGE 271

higher duties ? How far does the one kind obstruct
or assist the other?

The political duties are informing one's self on
the state of the country, on policies at issue, on
candidates for office, and then going to the polls and
depositing a ballot. The so-called higher duties are
the bearing and rearing of children, while making
a home for family and friends.

How much time must a woman spend on her
political duties? If she belongs to the well-to-do
class and hires others to do her domestic work, she
has time for whatever interests her most — only let
her interests be noble! If she does her own house-
work, she can take ten minutes to stop on her way to
market for voting once or twice a year. She can find
half an hour a day for newspapers and other means
of information. She can talk with her family and
friends about what she reads. This she does now;
she will then do it more intelligently and will give
and receive more from what she says and hears.

The duties of motherhood and the making of a
home are the most sacred work for women of every
class, and the dearest to them. If casting an intelli-
gent vote would interfere with what woman alone
can do — and what, if failed in, undermines society
and government — no one can question which a
woman should choose. But it cannot be shown that
there is any large number of women in this country

272 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

who have not the necessary time to vote intelligently.
Study of the vital questions of our government would
make them better comrades to their husbands and
friends, better guides to their sons, and more inter-
esting and valuable members of society. Women
have more leisure than men; they are less tied to
hours of routine; they usually have more years of
school training, and in this country their conscience
and loyalty compare favorably with men's. All this
makes simple the combination of public and " higher "
duties.

The objections to the political woman and to the
educated woman present some instructive analogies.
Fifty years ago it was seriously believed that knowing
the classics would ruin a girl's morals, knowing
philosophy her religion, and mathematics her health;
in general, a college education would take away her
desire to be a good wife and mother. To protect a
being so frail the colleges were carefully closed against
her. Now, with the approval of wise men, more girls
than boys are preparing for college, and this in the
public interest. It may be found in politics, as in
education, that the higher duties of women will be
assisted, not hindered, by intelligent discipline in
the lower.

The report on the Endowment of Fellowships is
admirably drawn. Whether the decision is for

CAMBRIDGE 273

European or American advanced study, I shall sup-
port it as far as I am able, and I believe the necessary
money can easily be obtained. Yet I hope the Asso-
ciation will decide on European study. Our com-
mittee keeps us properly protected against every
danger to our students except the family ; but that is
serious. A young woman cannot hold herself apart
from a needy family, as a young man can. And while
many a young woman can get advantages in certain
lines of study pursued in America as well as abroad,
still on the whole and in the present development of
women's scholarship, I believe the Association will
accomplish more and be more secure of its results
if it sends its Fellow abroad into an entirely new field.
There a sick brother cannot claim her for a month's
nursing, nor a lonely mother be likely to demand to
be amused. No! Foreign life has not made me
exactly inhuman, but we need to strengthen women
to devote themselves to high, persistent work; and
there is too little proper sentiment in America about
the sacredness of their time, as we all know.

In this distant city the women's Civic Club has
good material but bad leadership. The meeting last
night was in the Presbyterian Church, and more
than a dozen former Wellesley girls were present.
There were four addresses before mine; so I spoke
about twenty minutes, and am afraid I was too

274 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

critical to suit the mass of the audience. In fact I
was burning with indignation over the president,
Mrs. T. She is a ranting sentimentalist, a Method-
ist of the worst type. I cannot understand how this
woman has done what she really has done. A descrip-
tion of her talk cannot be put on paper. But more
hopeless conceit and vulgarity, more cheap senti-
mentality I have never known packed into a single
hour. At the close of my address she threw her arms
around me, called me " my darling," and begged me
to bring my trunk at once to her house. Many in the
audience wiped their eyes with delight at her way
of saying " Jesus," and looked disgusted at my lack
of "spirituality." These women will have to learn
that sprinkling rose-water does not cure the cancers
of city life. But don't suppose I said anything so
heretical here.

Last week I was fortunate enough to have a talk
with a Cape Cod farmer at a little railroad station
where our train was delayed. As we grew confidential
he told me how, though he was not yet sixty years old,
he had seen all the dreams of his boyhood come
true. This surprised me into asking him to be more
confidential still and to tell me what they were. He
dfd so in detail. There was the mortgage on the farm
when he was a boy, and the heavy load when he
inherited the farm. He said, "I should have been

CAMBRIDGE 275

swamped by it if I had n't had the luck just then to
fall in love with the nicest girl on the Cape. And I
don't mind telling you," he went on, " what I told her.
I told her that if she would join me I would work
hard, and we would scrimp and save and pay off that
mortgage. I told her too that before I got into my
grave I would earn enough and lay by enough so that
every one of my women-folks should sit in a rocking-
chair reading a story every afternoon of their lives."
I thanked my farmer then, and I bless him still. His
story is an American classic. It tells the dream of all
the chivalrous husbands and fathers and brothers
and sons of our American women — a glorious
dream, if the women refuse the rocking-chair and the
story ; but a pitiful one if they take these every after-
noon of their lives. Never in all the world has so
much leisure, so much money, or so much freedom
in the spending of both, been granted women as to
us to-day. But how slenderly we are fitted for using
that money and leisure nobly !

This morning I am asked to write something about
Miss A. and send it by the next mail to the Magazine.
How difficult it is to fit such things to the intricate
reality, and so how untruthful they generally are!
When I suddenly leave you all, I hope nobody will
have to say anything about me, or plan a " Memorial
Number." Love and silence are best.

276 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

You will find some hardship in this change, but
don't take it harder than you need. Comfort your-
self, as I often do, with the thought that rest comes
sure arid soon. Neither you nor I are any longer
young, and we both come of a short-lived race. After
all, it makes little difference what happens, or when.

xm

BOXFORD

ABOUT twenty-five miles to the north of Boston,
and half a dozen inland from the sea, lies the ancient
village of Boxford, settled among its trees. These
hem the sight on every side. Wherever you go in
this rolling country, you seldom leave the woods;
and even in crossing its two considerable plains,
jagged peaks of pines form always the sawlike sky-
line. Encircled by these woods lie many ponds, and
the streams which run to and fro are met with bewil-
dering frequency. On them is an occasional saw-
mill, where piles of sawdust perfume the air. So
important are our streams that we carefully distin-
guish their varieties. West of New York everything
that runs is a " creek." Brook, as a spoken word, is
gone — the most regrettable loss the English language
has suffered in America. With us a creek does not
run, but is a crack or inlet of the sea. Our largest
current is Topsfield River; in the second grade of
things that flow we put our many brooks ; and that
which runs swiftly a part of the year, and shows a
dry bed for the remainder we fittingly call a run. I
do not know if the word occurs elsewhere between us
and Bull Run.

278 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

In speaking of Boxford it is more natural to tell
first of its woods, ponds, and brooks than of its
houses and people, because there are so many more
of them. The town is nine miles long by five wide,
but there are more half miles without a house than
with one. The village itself contains only a dozen,
beside the single church, the single store, the small
public library, and the large town hall. Driving
along the stone-walled roads, one comes at intervals
on solitary farmsteads where a venerable house and
large barn sit in smooth fields, sharply sundered from
the forest. The older houses sit square to the com-
pass, regardless of the road. Everything about them
is in order, as was ordained two hundred years ago ;
paint, thrift, and self-respect having maintained the
standard since. The soil is thin, and the returns
from farming meagre. Formerly summer crops of
hay, oats, and wheat were profitable; and in the
little shoe-shops, which still stand deserted beside
many houses, the farmer and his children kept busy
through the winter. But Boxford has been unable to
hold its own against the farming of the West or the
machinery of Lynn and Brockton. The young men
— and of later years, since more avenues of employ-
ment have been opened, the young women too —
leave the town as soon as possible. Our population,
less than it was a century ago, barely reaches five
hundred. Almost entirely it is of English stock, the

BOXFORD 279

same families continuing on their lands through
many generations. Hardly any Italians, Canadians,
or Irish are here. There are no poor, no rich; nor
have we any doctor or lawyer. There are too few
people to quarrel; and in our wholesome piney air
dying and falling sick went out of fashion ages ago.

This is the village which in Mrs. Palmer's affec-
tions possessed a sacredness no other spot of earth
could claim. Into it had soaked the traditions of my
family for eight generations. To it her own early
nature-worship had been transferred and here be-
came newly enriched by many hallowed experiences.
Here was her refuge when elsewhere the world was
too much with her. The hush and peace of Boxford
she has herself expressed in compact verse : —

Out of the roar and din,

Safely shut in,
Out of the seething street,

Silence to meet.

Out of the hurrying hours,

To lie in flowers;
Far from the toil and strife

To find our life.

Ah, let the world forget!

Here we have met.
Most in this sacred place

I see thy face.

280 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Our farm in Boxford has never been owned by
anybody but ourselves and the Indians. Captain
John Peabody built his house here in 1660, and out
of it came that tribe of Peabodys who have since
wandered into every state of the Union and even
made their name blest in far-away London. Until
1856 the farm continued in that single name. Then
by the death of my grandfather it descended to my
mother, Lucy Peabody, and has for the last fifty years
been known as the Palmer farm. Of its hundred and
twenty-five acres about half is woodland. Its large
two-chimneyed house stands in an open field or park
of twenty acres, dotted with trees which mark the
line of the run and enclose a small sheet of water.
Oaks and maples fill the rocky pasture in the rear;
while across the road, and at about an equal distance
in front, the sandier soil is covered with pines. Per-
haps the feature of this bit of ground which was most
loved by Mrs. Palmer is the twenty-foot brook, which,
after sauntering through the tall pines, zigzags
through meadows and yields us, in addition to its
beauty and murmur, the more solid delights of
pickerel, lilies, stepping-stones, and bathing-pool.

In the woods for about two miles run paths, or
avenues rather, cut in large part by Mrs. Palmer
and myself, each enriched by special associations and
suitably endowed by her with names. Names too
have gathered about other prominent features of the

BOXFORD 281

farm. The Fairy Ring is an open circle in the woods ;
the Old Cellar, a hollow ringed with cedars, still
shows the foundations of a house which was already
gone in 1800; at Sunset Rock on Sunday afternoons
nearly all Shakespeare's plays have been read aloud ;
and Hattie's House, a rock among the ash trees,
where one may recline, was the favorite haunt of an
invalid member of the household, long since dead.
No part of this farm is mere earth and vegetation.
Clustering associations cover the soil. All entered
long ago into that alliance with man which in Lord
Bacon's judgment is ever a condition of beauty, —
homo additus naturae. Raw nature is pretty poor stuff.
Most philosophers doubt if, parted from man, matter
would be quite conceivable. Coleridge thought that
in beholding the world —

We receive but what we give,

And in our life alone does nature live.

At any rate, human emotions intertwined with na-
ture ennoble both material objects and themselves.
Things loved cease to be mere things, and retain
longer than rose-jars a delicate perfume. So did the
glorifying magic of affection permeate Boxford.
Mrs. Palmer found the place deeply impregnated
by the eventful past. When she died, she had given
it the impress of her pervasive personality.

Her home was not the old house of the first settler.

282 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

This fell into decay in my childhood. Nor was it
even the stately second house, built on the original
farm in 1825 by my grandfather. During Mrs.
Palmer's life this was occupied by my sister and half
a dozen others who might by an affectionate arithme-
tic be counted members of the family. Her home
was on an adjoining lot, a stone's throw distant but
unparted by boundaries. It is a small, picturesque
structure, with central chimney, and is almost hidden
by foliage. It sits on its little bank like a turtle on a
log. Half a century ago it came into my family, but
was then already a hundred and fifty years old. In
its low rooms, each having a big fire-place, one easily
touches the ceilings with the hand. Across the ceiling
of the large living room runs the supporting oak
beam. The chamber above is wainscoted with pine
which time has deepened almost to mahogany.
Shutters of the same wood slide across its windows.
But the outside of this house is more important
than the inside, though between the two there is
little distinction; for the floor is on a level with the
ground, and long diamond windows give exit on all
sides, while porch and large bay-window bind it still
more closely to the earth. East and west are piazzas,
so sheltered with shrubbery as to increase the nest-
like aspect, the western being fitted as an outdoor
study and shielded from every storm. Tables and
chairs and bookshelves and sofa are on it, and in the

I

BOXFORD 283

rear it connects with a library of fifteen hundred
volumes. On it we live and work. When people talk
of the necessity of exercise they chiefly mean the
necessity of breathing open air. In such an outdoor
workshop as I have described it is easy to give half a
dozen hours a day to books and writing ; then with a
couple of hours in the woods toward evening, and
a bath in the brook on the way home, one comes out
at the end of the summer in vigorous health.

Such was Mrs. Palmer's happy hiding-place. No
telegraph connects it with the city, the station is a
mile from the village, our house half a mile from this,
the railroad a branch line, and there is no hotel.
Here she was fairly secure from invasion. There were
no calls to make, no lectures to give, no committees
to meet, and little company was invited. Occasionally
the daughter of a friend was with us, and of the con-
genial company in the ancestral house we saw as little
or as much as we liked. " Winters for other people,"
we used to say, "summers for ourselves." It took
some time, however, to break up brazen habits of
incessant work; and in the early years Mrs. Palmer
was often doubtful about duty. "Do you think we
have a right to such happiness?" she would ask.
But soon discovering how she accumulated here
the stock of energy, learning, and romance from
which the world drew so copiously during the busy
season, she reconciled herself to her bliss and ac-

284 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

cepted the peace and companionship in which her
soul delighted. People who found her lamp a light
to their feet on city streets did not know the Box-
ford fields in which its oil was grown. But there is
no feature of joy more creditable than its inevitably
communicative character. He who is filled with
happiness, though seemingly absorbed, emanates
pleasure on whoever crosses his way. He cannot
contain it all, but produces much for his neighbors.
There is no other such agent for diffusing joy as the
heart that itself enjoys. This Mrs. Palmer possessed
by nature. In Boxford the springs of her effluent
gladness were newly filled.

Long before our marriage her restful associations
with Boxford began. Early in our acquaintance,
and twice afterwards, she visited me here in com-
pany with a friend. The summer of 1887, after our
engagement was announced, she spent in my old
house with her sister, while I lived with our farmer.
Here we came for the fortnight after our wedding,
when the pine boughs were loaded with snow and
the world without and within was like fairyland.
Here in subsequent years we often returned to cele-
brate that anniversary, or — more beautiful still —
for the early spring recess. Scattered up and down
the working time many Sundays found us here,
apple-blossom Sunday never failing. Though May
and June were too hurried a season to be passed

BOXFORD 285

here in full, we usually contrived a few days then for
observing nature's miracles. And never does nature
appear more miraculous than to the tired eyes of the
dweller in cities when, after absence, he once more
rests them on green fields stretched out against dark
trees. I suspect Milton had for a while been a
stranger at Hortou when he wrote "L'Allegro."
Among Mrs. Palmer's papers I find a kindred out-
burst of astonished country joy : —

We journeyed through sweet woodland ways,

My Love and I.
The maples set the shining fields ablaze.

The blue May sky

Brought to us its great Spring surprise;
While we saw all things through each other's eyes.

And sometimes from a steep hillside

Shone fair and bright
The shadbush, like a young June bride,

Fresh clothed in white.

Sometimes came glimpses glad of the blue sea;
But I smiled only on my Love. He smiled on me.

The violets made a field one mass of blue,

Even bluer than the sky;
The little brook took on that color too,

And sang more merrily.

286 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

" Your dress is blue," he laughing said. " Your eyes,"
My heart sang, " sweeter than the bending skies."

We spoke of poets dead so long ago,

And their wise words.
We glanced at apple trees, like drifted snow;

We watched the nesting birds, —
Only a moment ! Ah, how short the day !
Yet all the winters cannot blow its sweetness quite
away.

What were Mrs. Palmer's occupations in this
idyllic spot ? Letters largely ; for even when all other
human ties are cut, these tentacles search out the
runaway and seize him where he hides. But two
hours generally sufficed to clear Mrs. Palmer's day
of their clutches. Then birds and books, cooking
and sewing were at hand. Having a pretty exten-
sive knowledge of birds, which I with my short sight
was denied, she tried to spend a little time each day
sitting about the fields, in attendance on her wayward
friends. When she was working in the house and I
on the piazza, I was charged to catch each novel
sound or sight and speak it not too loudly, so that
she might glide forth with the opera glass. I find
memoranda of one hundred and forty varieties of
birds discovered on the farm. She loved them all;
not the rare ones only, but those which make the

BOXFORD 287

ordinary pleasure of the day. Bobolinks, cuckoos, and
whip-poor-wills abound in spring ; wood- thrushes,
her favorites among all birds, in the summer.
Vireos and orioles are in pretty constant song.
Owls laugh and hoot at night. Among the thick
foliage flash tanagers, jays, blue-birds, yellow-birds.
Humming-birds come every ten minutes to the tiger
lilies by the piazza, and, on one of its rafters each
spring a phoebe builds and brings out her three
broods. In and out of a hollow tree by our window
flickers were always moving, and into the nest of a
song-sparrow wTe looked as we raised our curtain.
She loved the clear call of the quail and the drum
of the partridge. On the whole, she cared more for
birds than for the abundant arid lovely wild flowers.
They were more alive. Yet most of the flowers she
knew, and had them always on her tables. It made
a kind of festival when I brought her the first col-
umbine, the first wild rose, the first cardinal, or the
first blue gentian. The boisterous golden-rod and
the wide variety of opulent asters told her that Ihe
year had turned, and touched her with a sort of har-
vest sadness. The pale stalks of the early meadow
rue pleased her better. But she had a heart fitted
also for clover and apple blossoms, for buttercups
and dandelions, and whatever common brightness
spots the fertile earth. And then there were the
butterflies, the bees in the linden, the squirrels,

288 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

the woodchucks, the foxes. The behavior of all these
pretty creatures of the country engaged her as closely
as the winter perplexities of girls.

There was pleasure too in catching at the right
moment the successive crops of berries and fruits,
and preserving them or turning them into jellies.
She acquired some renown for skill in persuading
jellies to stiffen. Her rows of glasses she contem-
plated as a miser his money-bags, knowing their
power of carrying summer sweetness to winter tables.
Those made elsewhere were thought to lack the full
Boxford flavor. Other experiments in cookery could
be tried here, and the Boxford table must always
have a special delicacy and neatness. If I missed her
in the library, I was pretty sure to find her in the
kitchen. But all the housekeeping was kept simple.
Our home, convenient and beautiful enough, was
of the earlier type, plain and with its pleasures rooted
in elemental things. The modern city establishment,
incongruously dropped among fields where it never
grew, yields no such easy conjunction with nature.

In later years she turned to photography; and as
soon as a new section of pathway in the woods was
accomplished, it was transferred to paper and taken
to Cambridge for her winter desk. She experimented
with different methods of developing and printing;
and I must fit up a dark closet with appropriate
pans, acids, and waters. But in two respects her

BOXFORD 289

education had been defective. The busy years had
allowed her no practice in music; and though she
could pick out a strain on the piano, for solid enjoy-
ment she was dependent on the performance of
others. For similar reasons she knew no games until
after she left Wellesley, and summers were too short
for acquiring many. In two or three, however, she
became proficient. There was a species of solitaire
which she liked, though she soon adjusted it so as
to enable two persons to work together toward a
common end. She remade casino so that two players
could waste a half-hour over it without regret. Domi-
noes was her favorite when three could play. Its
luck was largely reduced by the division of all pieces
at the start, by the exclusion of a pool, and the me-
chanical turning up of the twenty-eighth piece. De-
vices were found for keeping the hands decently clear
of doublets, and skill was set free to operate the long
suits, to reckon what pieces were in an opponent's
hand, to get control of an end, or to block the game
while leaving few spots in the hand of the blockader.
A domino score was kept through the summer, or
even from year to year ; and on the piazza most days
after dinner three opponents struggled to shift that
score in rival directions. In whist she never became
expert. Too seldom were four present in playtime.
And chess she did not learn, as too much like winter
labors. But though she was unfortunately past thirty

290 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

when she first took up technical games, she found
herself not unprepared. Everything had been a game
for her. Throughout life she had been watching con-
trivance and circumstance as they run side by side,
and had delighted in the contest by which the worse
is brought into subjection to the better.

At Boxford too one could sew ; and in sewing she
delighted, as Izaak Walton in fishing. It was a con-
templative occupation and an excuse for peace, one
of the superiorities of her sex. As the needle pushed
its way along the seam, there came leisure for dream-
ing, remembering, planning. She resorted to it often
when alone; and as I read aloud, she would hem
napkins and table-cloths as peacefully as a cat purrs.
Usually there was mending at hand, and embroidery
could be taken at a pinch. But the more aggressive
forms of sewing were the favorites. From time to
time I would miss her for a day at her desk. She
had disappeared into untraceable upper regions.
When she presented herself at night, I must admire
the old gown reconstructed, or the spring hat which
had become an autumn one. Over these triumphs
she rejoiced as I at completing a magazine article.
But such happy toils were not allowed to invade our
evenings. These were reserved for books and early
bed hours.

Of course books were the commonest employment
for both of us. I had my urgent studies, and close

BOXFORD 291

at hand she hers. In winter time it was impossible
to amass much scholarly capital. Broken up as we
were by engagements and lectures, study then could
merely respond to immediate needs. But in the un-
interrupted hours of the blessed summer one could
explore and heap up knowledge. Not that she even
then undertook severe connected studies; I cer-
tainly discouraged them. Her summer was for rest.
And then too she was not a bookish person, but pri-
marily a woman of affairs who fed herself best by
direct observation of men and things. Yet from
books she derived great stimulus and was always
longing to come at them more closely. Her actual
dealings with them were peculiar. They were en-
tirely subordinated to her life and never acquired
rights of their own. Sometimes she would go a month
without opening one; then at a moment of unex-
pected leisure she would seize whatever came to
hand — story, verse, abstract discussion, it made
little difference how severe the subject — and in-
stantly she was absorbed. Nothing could shake
her attention. Questions went unanswered, and
even letters neglected. She read with intensity and
speed. I have rarely known her to take more than
half a day for any volume, however substantial, and
afterwards she knew whatever her book contained.
Naturally during the summer these times of burial
in a book were more permissible, and she revelled
in the opportunity.

292 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Long before we married both she and I were
devotees of English poetry; of that poetry, I mean,
in its historic relations and not merely in its single
authors. She brought from Wellesley a good acquain-
tance with both the earlier and the later material,
and increased it through every year we were together.
The seventeenth-century poets were especially dear,
though of course the enormous and passionately
ethical product of the nineteenth was still oftener in
our hands. I am inclined to think that all profitable
communion with poetry has in it an element of
stealth. It cannot be arranged for, like other inter-
ests; but requiring more of personal response than
they, can reach its best results only when stolen
from moments already more or less pledged. I at
least have formed my deepest intimacies with the
poets when I have come upon them by way of inter-
ruption. During the busy winter, whenever Mrs.
Palmer and I grew tired, work was cast aside and
we would snatch an evening for the restful singers.
I would read aloud, while she sewed or gazed at the
fire. There is no such means for clearing cobwebs
from a weary brain as sweeping it with disinfectant
rhythms. Better than music it is for me because,
while it is no less sportive than music, its play is
ever with rationalities. By such interruptions, then,
we kept ourselves in the best condition both for
poetry and daily work.

BOXFORD 293

Now Boxford was one long interruption, con-
trived for play, beauty, and idealism. Out of that
soil poetry grew as naturally as grass in the field.
It was read because it was lived. As we roamed the
woods we talked it, discussing the methods and
psychology of the writers we had been reading. A
book of verses was often with us underneath the
bough. And when the nights were fair we would
carry a shaded light into the pines, and gathering a
considerable company from the two houses, all as
mad as we, would lie on the fragrant needles and
read an evening through. I remember one August
night having the entire " Midsummer Night's
Dream " in the Fairy Ring, when owls became our
chorus, and the moon sifted through the branches
as if it were Bottom's lantern. Naturally then when,
moved by her own experience of a kind of Golden
Age, she began, as I have related in my first chapter,
to write verse herself, her lines on love, nature, and
God — themes never parted in her mind — had an
easy depth and veracity seldom met in the tangled
and groping poetry of our time. A few examples of
her country verse I print.

It is pleasant to write this lyric chapter on her '
Boxford home, because previously I have so often
been obliged to exhibit her under harsh conditions.
She had always a heart most easily made glad, but
her stern early years gave slender opportunity for

294 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

indulging its capacity for delight. In Boxford this
was legitimately let loose. Needing little outward
stimulus because of inward peace, it fastened on the
small occasions of the country and drew from them
gaiety and health. Here we went out with joy and
were led forth with peace. Mountains and hills broke
forth before us into singing, and all the trees of the
fields clapped their hands. Not that troubles did not
sometimes overleap our hedges; we had our share.
Death did not pass us by, nor illness either. Our
projects did not always succeed. In a few instances,
saddest of all, the characters of those we loved col-
lapsed. But guarded as we were by each other, such
things did not crush or appall. What would terrify
another usually left Mrs. Palmer undisturbed. One
day as she lay ill, a thunder storm came swiftly out
of the southwest and struck the house, destroying
the room adjoining her own. She seemed at the time
much interested in the novel event, as if it were some-
thing contrived for her entertainment. Only after
her death I found among her papers a hymn with
that date attached. It was sung at the Memorial
Service held in Harvard College Chapel. I print it
here under the title of " The Tempest."

LETTERS

We are finding Boxford the same restful spot as
always, only at this Easter season more peaceful

BOXFORD *95

still. The refreshment of it fills heart and brain.
You know how country hours dream themselves
away. We seem to have been here but a day, and on
Wednesday must go reluctantly back to Cambridge.
The skies have been delicious — warm sun, with
fresh west wind, and melting moonlight among the
pines at night. The fields are greening, and our one
day of gentle constant rain is bringing the wild
flowers through the dead leaves. There are none in
actual blossom yet. But the robins are making them-
selves at home in the fields and apple trees, and the
swallows and bluebirds are important over spring
house-hunting and settling. I know how they feel.

It is a glowing spring morning. The transforma-
tion of the world is wonderful. Everything you see
is a surprise. The fields have that vivid green which
is so brief. The crops stand in shining rows two
inches high. The streams are full of sparkling
water, the maples flaming red, willows in their
spring glory, and all the light woods a-flutter with
young leaves. They plainly hint of bloodroot and
hepatica. Everywhere spring work goes on : plowing
in some places, sowing and planting in others, gar-
dening and housecleaning wherever people live.
Yesterday we went through the wood paths, clearing
away the winter's droppings. That 's what we came
for — the silence of the pine woods. Such infinite

296 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

stillness gives me a kind of awe. And to-morrow we
must be at our desks in Cambridge!

Our servant is enchanted with Boxford, begging
me to remain here all the year, wishing the old house
were in Cambridge, "if we must live there." This
delights me and assures a peaceful kitchen for the
summer. She has been helping me plant seeds about
the windows — morning-glories, sweet peas, pansies,
nasturtiums. We have upholstered several chairs
and painted others, setting our house in order.
G. is wonderfully well. He is working on his Homer,
which comes out this summer and keeps him steadily
busy.

So this is blessed Boxford again ! We saw it at five
o'clock to-day, and are already adjusting ourselves
to it with expansive satisfaction. Did we ever find it
so green and sweet before? The haying is just
begun, and the fields are superb, with the grass up
to my waist, all full of clover and daisies arid butter-
cups. Wild roses are in blossom by the Run. The
phoebe is raising her second brood on the piazza,
and in the old apple trees the young robins and
bluebirds are learning to fly. You should be here
to help me see their awkward ways. As I write in
the library a whip-poor-will comes into the ash tree
end sings as if he were in the room itself, an owl

BOXFORD 297

calls far away in the pines, and the moonlight on
the Park turns it into fairy land.

We were amazed at the coolness and freshness of
this refuge yesterday, when after the fierce heat of
Cambridge we again found ourselves under our
vines. It is a delicious world, the second " sea-turn "
within a week softening and refreshing all. I wish I
could send some of it to you, send too some of my
easy housekeeping. In this respect Boxford improves.
This year we have more provision-wagons coming
to our door. Twice a week a man brings us fish
straight from the sea. Ask H. if she will have steamed
Duxbury clams or a broiled live lobster for lunch.
I wish you might see how attractive the old rooms
look with their new curtains, green and white, and
the new coverings for the lounges and window seats.
And then we have time here, we two. Last night by
lamplight we sat late on the piazza, while G. read
aloud a French novel. And there he sits now, sway-
ing back and forth as he reads or watches the hay-
makers in the Park, or pats the dog at his feet, who
hardly turns his head from gazing far away at the
woodchucks in the field. It does my heart good to
be in such scenes. Here is quiet for tired nerves
that makes one able to meet anything smilingly
afterwards.

298 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

We shall expect you on Saturday afternoon.
Dear me ! I wish the house were not so little. Two
rooms are hardly large enough for seven Wellesley
girls. But my heart is large enough, and I want them
all for Sunday. That will give time for at least seven
good talks. And what a glorious set of girls it is, as
you name them over, every one of them ! This week
the cook has been on a vacation, though she will be
here when you arrive. But you should have tasted
the nice things I have cooked. G. says my bread is
the very best he has ever eaten, and my currant jelly
and preserves are beautiful to behold. How you will
enjoy the fragrant haying and the cardinal flowers
in the Run!

THE TEMPEST

He shall give His angels charge

Over thee in all thy ways.
Though the thunders roam at large,

Though the lightning round me plays,
Like a child I lay my head
In sweet sleep upon my bed.

Though the terror come so close,
It shall have no power to smite;

It shall deepen my repose,
Turn the darkness into light.

BOXFORD 299

Touch of angels' hands is sweet;
Not a stone shall hurt my feet.

All Thy waves and billows go

Over me to press me down
Into arms so strong I know

They will never let me drown.
Ah, my God, how good Thy will !
I will nestle and be still.

HALLOWED PLACES

I pass my days among the quiet places

Made sacred by your feet.
The air is cool in the fresh woodland spaces,

The meadows very sweet.

The sunset fills the wide sky with its splendor,
The glad birds greet the night.

I stop and listen for a voice strong, tender,
I wait those dear eyes' light.

You are the heart of every gleam of glory,

Your presence fills the air;
About you gathers all the fair year's story,

I read you everywhere.

300 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER
BEFORE THE MOWING

Never a sunny morning
Fuller of bliss.
Never gladder faces
Felt the sun's warm kiss
Than my meadow blossoms,
Dreaming not of this.

Wild roses beckoned

All along the Run ;

Hardback and meadow rue

Sang, "The night is done!"

All the grasses waved their hands

And welcomed back the sun.

Daisies and clovers

Nestled side by side;

Buttercups and black-eyed Susans

Tossed their heads in pride;

And a tall field lily

Looked at me and sighed.

Ah, my meadow grasses,
How your breath is sweet !
How you shelter happy homes
Safe around your feet !
How you shine, relentless death
Suddenly to meet !

BOXFORD 301

SUMMER RAIN

Stand with me here,
My very dear!

Watch the swift armies of the summer rain
Sweep the tall grasses of the Park,
Changing our shining noonday into dark.
Hear the loud thunder roar, again, again,
And roll and triumph in this summer rain.

The little birds all hide;
The cattle, wandering wide,
Seek the safe shelter of a spreading tree;
The old dog crouches by his master's feet.
Dark clouds come on, an army, strong and fleet.
Crash follows crash, all things to covert flee;
And wind and lightning drive me, — close to thee !

THE BUTTERFLY

I hold you at last in my hand,
Exquisite child of the air.

Can I ever understand

How you grew to be so fair?

You came to my linden tree
To taste its delicious sweet,

302 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I sitting here in the shadow and shine
Playing around its feet.

Now I hold you fast in my hand,
You marvelous butterfly,

Till you help me to understand
The eternal mystery.

From that creeping thing in the dust
To this shining bliss in the blue!

God give me courage to trust
I can break my chrysalis too!

NIGHTFALL

The dear, long, quiet summer day

Draws to its close.
To the deep woods I steal away
To hear what the sweet thrush will say

In her repose.

Beside the brook the meadow rue

Stands tall and white.
The water softly slips along,
A murmur to the thrush's song

To greet the night.

BOXFORD 303

Over and over, like a bell,

Her song rings clear;
The trees stand still in joy and prayer.
Only the angels stir the air,

High Heaven bends near.

I bow my head and lift my heart

In thy great peace.
Thy Angelas, my God, I heed.
By the still waters wilt thou lead

Till days shall cease.

ON A GLOOMY EASTER

I hear the robins singing in the rain.

The longed-for Spring is hushed so drearily
That hungry lips cry often wearily,

"Oh, if the blessed sun would shine again!'

I hear the robins singing in the rain.

The misty world lies waiting for the dawn,
The wind sobs at my window and is gone,

And in the silence come old throbs of pain.

But still the robins sing on in the rain ;

Not waiting for the morning sun to break,
Nor listening for the violets to wake,

Nor fearing lest the snow may fall again.

304 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

My heart sings with the robins in the rain;

For I remember it is Easter morn,
And life and love and peace are all newborn,

And joy has triumphed over loss and pain.

Sing on, brave robins, sing on in the rain !

You know behind the clouds the sun must shine ;
You know that death means only life divine,

And all our losses turn to heavenly gain.

I lie and listen to you in the rain.

Better than Easter bells that do not cease,
Your message from the heart of God's great peace.

And to his arms I turn and sleep again.

DECEMBER

Only half a year ago, Love,

Did we pass this way ?
Now the ground is white with snowdrifts,

Chill the clouds and gray.

Then the river wandered softly

Onward to the sea;
All the glad world sang in chorus

Just for you and me.

BOXFORD 305

Full of light and sound and fragrance,

Night shone more than day;
Till we held our breath in rapture,

And in silence lay.

Now the earth is cold and lifeless,

All the trees are bare;
Only now and then a snowflake

Wanders through the air.

But your hand sweeps all my heartstrings

To a joyful tune;
In the world it may be winter,

In my life 't is June.

So in meeting or in parting,

Winter time or Spring,
You still fill my life with beauty,

Teach my days to sing.

A COMMUNION HYMN

How sweet and silent is the place,
My God, alone with thee !

Awaiting here thy touch of grace,
Thy heavenly mystery.

306 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

So many ways thou hast, dear Lord,

My longing heart to fill :
Thy lovely world, thy spoken word,

The doing thy sweet will,

Giving thy children living bread,

Leading thy weak ones on,
The touch of dear hands on my head,

The thought of loved ones gone.

Lead me by many paths, dear Lord,

But always in thy way;
And let me make my earth a Heaven

Till next Communion Day.

While I was in Boston [writes Gertrude W.
Fielder] I had the pleasure of meeting Alice Freeman
Palmer. She was a doer of the word, and not a
hearer only; for almost every week through the hot
summer she used to leave her peaceful, calm retreat
in the country and go to Boston to talk to children
of the slums at a vacation school. These schools
are kept up through the summer in the poorest
localities. The children are given a morning's
session of music, reading, and pretty water-color
sketches, to look at. They can bring the babies
with them; and many indeed could not come at

BOXFORD 307

all without the little ones. Here is the story as Mrs.
Palmer told it : —

One July morning I took an early train. It was a
day that gave promise of being very, very hot even
in the country, and what in the city ! When I reached
my destination I found a great many girls in the
room, but more babies than girls, it seemed. Each
girl was holding one, and there were a few to spare.
"Now," I said, "what shall I talk to you about this
morning, girls?" "Talk about life," said one girl.
Imagine! "I am afraid that is too big a subject
for such a short time," I said.

Then up spoke a small, pale-faced, heavy-eyed
child, with a great fat baby on her knee, "Tell us
how to be happy." The tears rushed to my eyes,
and a lump came in my throat. Happy in such sur-
roundings as those in which, no doubt, she lived:
perhaps dirty and foul-smelling! Happy, with
burdens too heavy to be borne! All this flashed
through my mind while the rest took up the word
and echoed, "Yes, tell us how to be happy."

"Well," I said, "I will give you my three rules
for being happy; but mind, you must all promise
to keep them for a week, and not skip a single day,
for they won't work if you skip one single day." So
they all faithfully and solemnly promised that they
would n't skip a single day.

308 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

" The first rule is that you will commit something
to memory every day, something good. It need n't
be much, three or four words will do, just a pretty
bit of a poem, or a Bible verse. Do you under-
stand ? " I was so afraid they would n't, but one
little girl with flashing black eyes jumped up from
the corner of the room and cried, "I know; you
want us to learn something we 'd be glad enough to
remember if we went blind." "That's it, exactly!"
I said. "Something you would like to remember if
you went blind." And they all promised that they
would, and not skip a single day.

"The second rule is: Look for something pretty
every day; and don't skip a day, or it won't work.
A leaf, a flower, a cloud — you can all find some-
thing. Is n't there a park somewhere near here that
you can all walk to ? " (Yes, there was one.) " And
stop long enough before the pretty thing that you
have spied to say, * Is n't it beautiful ! ' Drink in
every detail, and see the loveliness all through. Can
you do it?" They promised, to a girl.

" My third rule is — now, mind, don't skip a day
— Do something for somebody every day." " Oh,
that's easy!" they said, though I thought it would
be the hardest thing of all. Just think, that is what
those children said, "Oh, that's easy! Did n't they
have to tend babies and run errands every day,
and was n't that doing something for somebody ? "
" Yes," I answered them, " it was."

BOXFORD 309

At the end of the week, the day being hotter than
the last, if possible, I was wending my way along a
very narrow street, when suddenly I was literally
grabbed by the arm, and a little voice said, "I done
it!" "Did what!" I exclaimed, looking down, and
seeing at my side a tiny girl with the proverbial fat
baby asleep in her arms. Now I will admit that it
was awfully stupid of me not to know, but my
thoughts were far away, and I actually did not know
what she w^as talking about. " What you told us to,
and I never skipped a day, neither," replied the childr
in a rather hurt tone. " Oh," I said, " now I know
what you mean. Put down the baby, and let's talk
about it." So down on the sidewalk she deposited
the sleeping infant, and she and I stood over it and
talked.

"Well," she said, "I never skipped a day, but it
was awful hard. It was all right when I could go to
the park, but one day it rained and rained, and the
baby had a cold, and I just could n't go out, and I
thought sure I was going to skip, and I was standin*
at the window, 'most cryin', and I saw " — here her
little face brightened up with a radiant smile — "I
saw a sparrow takin' a bath in the gutter that goes
round the top of the house, and he had on a black
necktie, and he was handsome." It was the first time
I had heard an English sparrow called handsome, but
I tell you it was n't laughable a bit — no, not a bit.

310 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

"And then, there was another day," she went on,
" and I thought I should have to skip it, sure. There
was n't another thing to look at in the house. The
baby was sick, and I could n't go out, and I was
feelin' terrible, when " — here she caught me by both
hands, and the most radiant look came to her face —
"I saw the baby's hair!" "Saw the baby's hair!"
I echoed. "Yes, a little bit of sun came in the win-
dow, and I saw his hair, an' I'll never be lonesome
any more." And catching up the baby from the
sidewalk, she said, "See!" and I too saw the baby's
hair. "Isn't it beau-ti-ful ? " she asked. "Yes, it
is beautiful," I answered. You have heard of artists
raving over Titian hair. Well, as the sun played on
this baby's hair, there were the browns, the reds, the
golds, which make up the Titian hair. Yes, it was
truly beautiful. "Now, shall we go on?" I said,
taking the heavy baby from her.

The room was literally packed this time ; ten times
as many girls, and as many babies as your mind will
conceive of. I wish you could have listened with me
to the experiences of those little ones. Laughter and
tears were so commingled that I don't know which
had the mastery.

XIV
DEATH

" WE make too much of the circumstance men call
death. All life is one. All service one, be it here or
there. Death is only a little door from one room to
another. We had better not think much about it,
nor be afraid for ourselves or for those who are dear
to us ; but rather make life here so rich and sweet and
noble that this will be our Heaven. We need no other
till He comes and calls us to larger life and fresh
opportunity."

So spoke Mrs. Palmer at the funeral of a friend,
and such was always her habit, — to make little
account of death. In accordance with her wise words
I should naturally record here only the bare fact that
she died in Paris on December 6, 1902. Her life was
so beautiful and triumphant, so naturally imparting
strength to others, and in its ending so happily sud-
den, that it would be almost an insult to her mem-
ory to recall dolorous circumstances connected with
her departure and associate thoughts of sadness with
so bright a being. Life, not death, is for all who loved
her the significant reality. To dwell on the facts of
parting is as inappropriate as to report how she

312 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

closed her house when she was preparing for a
sabbatical year in Europe.

Yet among what may be broadly called the living
features of death two deserve attention : it no less than
any other event is expressive of character, and the
conditions under which it appears often give grounds
for condemning or approving previous methods of
life. To leave either of these points unnoticed, more
particularly the latter, would render my account of
Mrs. Palmer imperfect. I shall accordingly use her
death as the occasion for considering some general
questions about her : the brevity of her life, her physi-
cal constitution, the care of her health, and the cost
of her large accomplishment.

Mrs. Palmer was an extremely busy woman. The
amount of work she bore was enormous and the
diversity of it no less remarkable. Since a large por-
tion of it was connected with some sort of leadership,
it brought upon her great responsibility and taxed
her bodily and mental strength to the utmost. Her
domestic cares were not less than those of ordinary
women, nor less exquisitely performed. She did the
usual amount of housekeeping, sewing, visiting, re-
ceiving guests, looking after the sick and poor, and at-
tending social functions. In the occupations counted
specifically feminine she even excelled. Yet after
these were all beautifully accomplished there came
those public duties to which she gave two thirds of

DEATH 313

her time. In these she carried almost the ordinary
work of a college official, a minister, and a business
man combined. And while it is true that until her
marriage she was free from household cares, this
advantage was offset by the grinding character of
the tasks in school and college, and by the unlimited
demands to which her dutiful nature there exposed
her. On the whole it may be said that from girlhood
to the grave, with only brief intervals after marriage,
her powers were kept under incessant tension. Nat-
urally then she was often judged harshly. Was not
her career simply another instance of headlong and
ill-regulated zeal ? Did she not by example encour-
age repose-needing women to undertake what was
excessive even for a man? Powers like hers should
have been treated with respect and guarded. Was
not her wastefulness sure to result in early collapse ?
And when her death before the age of fifty startled
the many who needed her, these doubts were doubled
and the inquiry was inevitable whether it would not
have been wiser to continue longer at a slower pace ?
I hope every reader of my book has been asking these
questions. This is the place to answer them.

No one would affirm that her life in college or in
her early teaching was ideal. It contained twice too
much work and only half enough refreshment. It
was attended throughout by crushing anxieties. Had
her health been properly regarded at this time, she

314 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

might have eradicated some of the physical weak-
nesses she inherited and so have greatly lightened
the labors of later years. That she did not do so,
however, was not her fault. The exactions of those
years she did not choose. They were laid upon her
by poverty. She had an education to gain, a living
to earn ; and she accepted their hard conditions as
cheerfully as have hundreds of other young men
and women. I wonder that she passed through them
with so little physical damage and drew from them
such refinement and charm.

Nor do I see any signs of carelessness in the
Wellesley time. During her teaching there the dis-
turbed conditions inseparable from the starting of
a new college overworked all its Faculty, utterly
breaking down its leaders, — the founder, the presi-
dent, and herself. She alone showed such sagacity
in methods of restoration that she was soon able to
return to work and accept the presidency; her chief
hesitation in doing so being, as the letters I have
printed show, the doubt whether she ought to ex-
pose herself to new exhaustion. Once having de-
cided that the college was more important than her-
self, she was obliged to give herself wholly to its
demands. Yet even then she studied protective mea-
sures. She kept a horse and took regular exercise;
she was careful of food and sleep ; at times of special
fatigue she would spend a day or two at a solitary

DEATH 315

room in Boston; and as soon as a cottage could be
built at Wellesley for housing a few girls, she re-
moved from the great hall and sheltered herself in
its comparative seclusion. On the whole, there were
few means of protection available during this glo-
riously self-sacrificing period which she did not
employ.

I speak of these matters somewhat in detail be-
cause, like most great workers, she attached much
importance to the physical basis of life and con-
stantly warned her girls against disregard of the laws
of health. Yet it should also be said that she ex-
pected her life to be a short one and was ever so-
licitous how to effect what she desired within its brief
compass. We have seen how the uncertainties of
her college years led her to treat each of them as if
it were to be her last; and something of the same
feeling attended her through life, I hardly know why.
Partly it came from her knowledge of the inherited
dangers of her constitution ; still more, I think, from
her sense of the urgency of human needs, and such
a recognition as Jesus had that those who would
meet them must be ready to be consumed. But this
was not all. There was besides a sort of presentiment
which I could never fully explore or remove. It was
seldom asserted, never argued; only when I would
attempt to make some provision for her old age, I
was always met by the quiet words, " You need n't

316 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I shan't survive you. My life will be short." I think
she was surprised that the end was deferred so

long-
Expecting then a brief career, one might suppose
she would have cleared it of all unnecessary toil and
so have "saved her strength." But this popular
phrase she utterly distrusted, and her life ought to
do much to make that distrust more general. The
notion that to each of us is allotted a definite amount
of vigor, and that expenditure causes diminution of
the total sum, she regarded as a pernicious mechan-
ical superstition. It is certainly the common excuse
for inaction, and more than anything else checks the
full development of women. Idleness is in reality far
more dangerous than work. It is in the nature of life
to grow by exercise and, with proper care, to increase
through outgo. The blacksmith does not enfeeble
his arm by pounding ; that is his method of enlarg-
ing its power. She believed continuous work to be
conducive to health and she proved it so by practice.
Beginning weak and working steadily, often unable
to secure proper safeguards against exhaustion, she
escaped all the ills from which idle women suffer,
acquired remarkable hardihood, and almost every
year found herself sturdier than before. If there is
any one lesson which Mrs. Palmer's life preeminently
teaches, it is the life-preserving influence of persistent,
severe, and judiciously managed labor.

DEATH 317

I have said that such judicious management was
not fully possible until her marriage. Throughout
the third period of her life, as I have divided it, her
public services were largely of a sacrificial sort and
were understood to have little reference to her own
needs. But in her last fifteen years, in what I have
called her fourth period, there was no such clash of
interests. Though never more widely useful, she
was then heartily enjoying the full exercise of dis-
ciplined powers. Culpable indeed she must have
been if during these years she overworked.

On the whole, I do not think she did. Like every-
body, she had her times of weariness. The accident
described in my twelfth chapter brought permanent
damage. But neither this nor any previous fatigue
had any influence in shortening her life. She died of a
rare disease, intus-susception of the intestine, a disease
against which no precautions are possible. Its causes
are totally unknown. Many physicians believe it to
be congenital, and all those consulted agreed that
nothing which she had done or left undone could in
any way have hastened it. When the trouble began
she was in excellent health, and in the intervals of
its covert advance she was altogether free from dis-
turbance. Of the many experienced surgeons sum-
moned for diagnosis not one suspected danger till
five days before she died, nor after they advised an
operation did they see much chance of recovery.

318 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Yet even then so hardy was she that she came
through one of the severest operations known to
surgery, lay painless and peaceful for three days, and
would probably have survived had nature endowed
her at birth with a full pulse. The circumstances
of her death give strong confirmation to her gospel
of work.

Yet in expounding that gospel I ought to make
plain how much she excluded from it which ordina-
rily slips in. She seldom hurried, never worried, ad-
mitted no regrets for the past or anxieties for the
future. Drudgery she abhorred, and consequently
avoided too great single continuity on the one hand,
and disjointed fragmentariness on the other. From
these insidious dangers she was saved by habits of
concentrated attention, by the deep interest she took
in all she did, by such perception of its human
bearings that no part of it became mechanical, by
quick separation of the important and unimportant,
by perpetual humor, and steady enthusiasm — the
whole supplemented by a kind of natural vagrancy.
She dropped work as easily as she took it up, and
never acquired the fatal inability to stop. It was
the whole-hearted character of that work which kept
it sane and safe. Joy is protective. Where soul,
mind, and strength are all engaged together, invigor-
ation usually follows. It is the divided nature which
lacerates; the hands in one place, the heart in

DEATH 319

another. Putting herself fully into her work, and
freeing it from frictions, she made an amount that
was appalling to others really beneficial.

But while certain peculiarities of her tempera-
ment thus prevented injury from work, others ex-
posed her to it. She was ever easy to be entreated,
and each new thing appeared with an altogether
special claim. Every good woman is in danger of
over-helpfulness. Recognizing this beautiful danger,
after our marriage I constituted myself her watch-
dog and barked violently at whatever suspicious per-
sons I saw approach. It pleases me to think that by
such hostilities I cut off a quarter of her labors, the
least important quarter. Though occasionally chafing
under the restraint, she on the whole saw my use-
fulness and rewarded me with adequate thanks.

If then this is a sufficient account of that curious
diligence which might easily be supposed to have
induced her comparatively early death, it only
remains to state briefly the circumstances under
which her life closed, especially those which most
reveal her character.

In 1902, when a Sabbatical Year became due me,
we were neither of us inclined to use it. Never had
home seemed so attractive, nor our employments so
engrossing. But in the past we had derived such
benefit from these periodic relaxations that, not
daring to reject this one altogether, we decided to

320 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

accept the first part of it and to resume work in
the middle of the year. Even then we lingered at
Boxford through the summer and did not sail till the
first of October. Some petty circumstances of our de-
parture are perhaps characteristic enough to deserve
mention.

We were to sail on Wednesday morning. During
the preceding week I could not induce Mrs. Palmer
to pack. That was our last week in Boxford, and
we must enjoy it. When Monday came, we set about
the business in earnest; but soon she wandered out
under the peach tree, and came back reporting that
some of the peaches were ripe, and I must get one
she had noticed. I did so, and she declared it deli-
cious. It would be a shame to leave such fruit to
perish. We might take a little rest from packing and
put up a few jars for winter. So we sat merrily down
on the piazza and began peeling peaches. On one
excuse and another I was sent back to the tree for
more, till we had disposed of a bushel. Then the full
absurdity of the situation came over me, and I said,
" What fools we are ! With all this work on hand, to
sit through a morning peeling peaches! As if we
could eat a bushel of peaches next year!" "Next
year?" she answered. "Nonsense! They will be
good for years to come, and the little packing is
easily managed." And so it proved. She provided
for my table long after she had left it, and time

DEATH 321

enough was found during the packing for two other
considerable events. Tuesday afternoon we spent at
the wedding of a friend; and Tuesday morning a
young relative from the great house crossed the
lawn to say that a young man in Cambridge had just
written her a letter which promised something simi-
lar in the future for herself. Mrs. Palmer was all
sympathy at once. We must have that young man
here immediately. I must ride to the village and
telephone orders for him to appear that night. And
so it happened that our last evening at home was
given to a rejoicing pair, and the trunks were seem-
ingly left to pack themselves. But this they did. On
Wednesday morning they stood quite ready, and
nothing was afterwards missed from them which
Europe required.

Two young friends joined us in Boston: Miss S.
to be our companion throughout, and Mr. M. for
the first month only. An important fifth member
of our party was the old English poet, George
Herbert, whose works I was then editing and whose
embroidered phrases were constantly on our lips.
On landing in England, and after the usual few days
at the Lakes, we put ourselves under his guidance,
following him to all the places where he lived from
birth to death. Many of these places we had visited
before, but a few literary " finds " now made in them
gave Mrs. Palmer much pleasure. So did a little

322 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

stay in Oxford with some old friends. London gave
her the magnificent pageant of King Edward acknow-
ledging his recovery from recent illness ; gave her, too,
its National Gallery and the music at St. Paul's.
About the first of November, Mr. M. leaving us,
we crossed to Paris. Here we found our old rooms
occupied, but were able to establish ourselves close
at hand in an apartment at 67 Avenue Marceau.
It is a wide, clean, and sunny street, the only objec-
tion to this new home being that it was larger and
more magnificent than was our usual habit. But we
closed its great reception room, with the mirrors and
gilded furniture, and gathered about the open fire in
the library. Here our little Marie served our meals ;
here during most of the mornings and evenings Mrs.
Palmer sewed, wrote, or listened ; and in the after-
noons renewed her old pleasure in the Louvre, the
river, Notre Dame, and the Theatre Fran£ais.
Sundays were poorer than during earlier visits be-
cause of the death of the great Protestant preacher,
Bersier. She counted him inferior only to Phillips
Brooks.

But she had the little excursions which she always
enjoyed. One sunny day we spent at Amiens
Cathedral ; one at St. Denis ; and one evening on
reading the paper she exclaimed, "To-day is All
Saints' Day, and seventy thousand people have been
at Pere la Chaise. To-morrow there will be as many

DEATH 323

more. We must go." "But why," I said, "go where
there is a crowd ? " " Why, so as to be with people
and join them in decorating the graves." We had
never visited Pere la Chaise before; but she was
happy in climbing the flower-lined Rue Roquette,
in hunting out the monuments of those she knew,
in watching the funeral observances, so unlike those
of her own land, and especially in mingling with the
mourning multitude. As she approached the gate,
a girl offered her violets. She bought a bunch, saying
she would carry them to Heloise, whom she admired
as a great administrator no less than as an ardent
woman. She found the tomb where the stone lovers
lie, and tossed the violets over the railing. That
night, meditating by the fireside, she remarked, "I
like cremation better. Not that I would insist on it
against the wishes of friends. Burial concerns the
living more than the dead. But I hope I may be
cremated." Such were the instructions I received
only a month before I went with her for the second
time to Pere la Chaise.

During much of that month she was not ill, but
merely ailing. From time to time she was able to go
about freely, and between the attacks of seeming
indigestion to be as well as ever. The last occasion
on which she went out was in response to a request
for an address at a girls' school. I am told she was
never more delightful, though only three weeks later

ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

that school sat with me at her funeral. There fol-
lowed this address a week under the doctor's charge,
with apparent cure; another, of fresh outbreak and
of consultation with three eminent physicians, all
perplexed ; in another still came the decision to oper-
ate, the private hospital, the death. During her last
fortnight she lay most of the time, patient and inter-
ested, in the library, and had me read her two books
which had just been sent, President Hyde's little
volume, " Jesus' Way," and Quiller-Couch's " Ox-
ford Book of Poetry." She continued to discuss my
problems in Herbert; and when the Boston papers
arrived, I must quickly discover the home news and
report it all. To the last she did not lose that mental
eagerness. A spasm of pain would overwhelm her,
leaving her for a moment unconscious ; then the eyes
would unclose and she would say, "There, that is
gone ; and what did they do on the School Board ? "
She lived fully, so long as she drew breath.

On Wednesday of the last week the doubtful
doctors came early, and after consultation ordered
an operation for that noon; they did not conceal
from her that it would probably be fatal, for in all the
necessary examinations she had been the coolest and
helpfulest of the company. They leaving us at nine,
we had an hour together before she was removed.

And then appeared for the last time that strange
combination of clear intelligence and emotional ardor,

DEATH 325

of sweet womanliness and attention to business,
which ever distinguished her. Her fearless wise talk
had even its usual humorous turns. As the door
closed, she bade me fetch a package of papers and
handed me back a little group. These were her en-
gagements for the winter. I must write to these
people and not let them be disappointed. Then there
were the friends at home, to each of whom some-
thing was sent; and I must watch over her parents
and sister. " Bobby will miss me," she said. He was
her godson. I must riot spend the summer in Box-
ford. Later ones would be good there, but this year
I had better carry out an engagement to lecture in
California. She thought she understood my work.
I had promised her a little book on ethics. Could I do
that in a year ? And then I must not allow anything
to intervene till our Herbert was published. That
would require two years more ; and so it did. Beyond
that, nobody could foresee. But there would be our
two colleges, our boys and girls — work enough to
keep me busy, work too which had interested us
both. She could think of no last words to say; our
whole lives had spoken those. We knew each other's
deep love ; and I must treat myself honorably, allow-
ing no doubts or regrets to come. " Call our faithful
Marie and give her this dress. And now," she said,
"you must go to the hospital and have the room
ready when the ambulance arrives."

326 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

I had some fears about the hospital. Sanitarily
excellent as it was, and containing the best skill in
France, its nurses were black-robed nuns with white
head-bands. Her room was consecrated to John the
Baptist, and an image of the saint stood by her head.
Formalism in religion was peculiarly obnoxious to
her. The simplicity prized everywhere else she
counted essential in her approaches to God. It
struck me therefore as bizarre that this widely loved
American and Protestant should die almost alone
among Roman Catholics, persons who knew no
English words and could comprehend still less the
conditions of mind behind them. But all my fears
were set at rest the next morning. As I entered, her
face was all aglow over " this blessed place where the
air seems full of religion, and one feels entirely free
and at ease." She reminded me of her two previous
hospital experiences, but neither so satisfactory as
this. I had to check her eager whisperings and to say
that we must use whatever strength she had pretty
skilfully if we would celebrate our wedding-day a
fortnight hence. With a gay smile she answered that
together we had pulled ourselves through many tight
places, and we really might cheat the doctors yet.
Of course she endeared herself to doctors and nurses.
When early on Saturday morning the breath quietly
stopped, the attending sister broke into sobs. I
asked, " Est-ce qu'elle est morte ? " " Morte, Mon-

DEATH 327

sieur ! " she cried, " Mais qu'elle etait une femme
exceptionelle ! "

Would she have had more chance for life, or less
suffering, if the inevitable catastrophe had befallen
her in America ? Certainly one would have selected
these circumstances for her death as little as he would
have chosen most of the other severities of that life
which still all called good. Events must be judged
in relation to character. Judging so, I think those
of her ending fortunate. She was attended by the
highest skill ; had every comfort of home, food, and
care ; her admirable servant would have died for her
at any minute ; she held her consciousness to the last,
making the business of dying as brief as she had
always hoped it might be; and by her banishment
was saved from the inquiries, anxieties, and lamenta-
tions of friends. I cannot imagine a greater distress
to that tender heart than would have been the suf-
ferings of others on her account. Only the Sunday
before she died she reproached me for writing to a
friend that she was not quite well. But though no
regrets are proper for the manner of her death, who
can contemplate the fact of it and not call the world
irrational if out of deference to a few particles of dis-
ordered matter it excludes so fair a spirit?

XV

CHARACTER

ON returning from Europe I was asked to allow
a service to be held in Cambridge in memory of
Mrs. Palmer. I gladly did so, and a large company
of her friends assembled in the chapel of Harvard
College on January 31, 1903. Every part of the
service was in charge of those who had known and
loved her. Few strangers were in the audience. The
ushers were teachers and students who had been
much in her home. A chorus of Harvard men and
another of Wellesley girls furnished the music, sing-
ing her hymn, "The Tempest," and others which
were especially dear to her. Professor Peabody read
the Scripture and offered prayer; and four college
presidents — Presidents Angell, Hazard, Tucker,
and Eliot — made addresses. At the beginning of the
programme, as at the beginning of this book, was
placed Mr. Gilder's exquisite lament; and at the
end, some lines adapted from Richard Crashaw, a
poet of whom she had long been fond.

The addresses on this occasion explore Mrs.
Palmer's character with great acuteness, beauty, and
affection. Each of the four speakers, looking back

Last Portrait

CHARACTER 329

•

on the life, tells what he has seen in it. Perhaps I
had better do so too. Now that the story of her deeds
is done, and we can no more watch the development
of her career, it may be well to summarize the quali-
ties disclosed. I at least love to linger over her several
traits no less than to observe how each was glorified
by its connection with the rest. My reader too will
be glad to have them passed in review, if that review
is brief, frank, reverent, and systematic. A kind of
moral index may appropriately close this book. Suc-
cessively then I will examine her physical, tempera-
mental, intellectual, moral, and religious structure.

She was of medium height, a little below the aver-
age, and in early life of slender build. At the time
of her marriage she weighed but a hundred pounds.
As she afterwards added some forty pounds to this,
I made it my boast that there was about a third of
her which I did not marry, but had made. Never
strong, she was rarely ill, had great power of endur-
ance, and was seldom shaken by sudden strain. I
have said that her lungs were her weak part, and
that from the time she went to college she had a con-
stant cough. She always took cold easily. There
may have been also some weakness of the heart, for
her pulse was so faint that in her best health it was
difficult to find it. But her step was elastic, her
bearing erect, her enjoyment of the mere act of living
incessant. She was sensitive to pain, and her keen

330 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

perceptions of sight, touch, and taste brought her
acute pleasure. All her movements were rapid;
as, however, she had herself completely under con-
trol and was quite without nervousness, one received
from her the impression of calm. When she sat,
she sat still. A favorite posture was that of listening,
the body slightly inclined forward and resting on
the fore part of her chair.

Her face drew instant attention. When she was
present it was as difficult to look at anything else as to
turn the eye away from a flickering fire. One hardly
asked if the face was beautiful, so immediate was
the sense of its nobility, its abounding life, and its
searching personal appeal. Above the large, dark,
hazel eyes grew luxuriant hair of the same color,
curling low down over the wide brow and everywhere
trying to free itself from restraint for play about
the shapely head. The cheek bones were strongly
marked, as in Scotch faces; the nose straight and not
large, the full lips slightly parted. The chin and
lower face had no particular form, but were moulded
by herself into endless varieties of expression. Indeed
the whole face varied so widely that photographs
taken on the same day might easily be mistaken for
those of different women. Shifting lights flashed under
the skin, as in portraits by Leonardo. By printing
several of her pictures, each in itself unsatisfactory,
I hope to show something of this baffling diversity.

CHARACTER 331

In 1890 Abbot Thayer painted her portrait for
Wellesley College; and in 1892 Anne Whitney carved
her bust. The portrait, a young girl dreaming on
the future of Wellesley, is charmingly idealized, but
hardly reports her actual features. So mobile a face
too is peculiarly unsuited to the rigidity of stone or
bronze. Yet each artist has represented certain
aspects of her delightfully. A monument interpret-
ing her work, designed by Daniel Chester French,
is to be placed in Wellesley College Chapel.

Passing beyond physical aspects and looking more
closely at the woman herself, we come upon those
half unconscious dispositions which are conveniently
grouped together under the name of temperament.
These represent our emotional habits rather than
our deliberate purposes. They are largely inherited,
or the natural result of conduct long gone by; and
while highly distinctive of each of us, hardly possess
a moral quality. They are the raw material out of
which character is formed, and become good or bad
according to their use. As mere things of nature,
unsanctioned by will, they are more often associated
with our weakness than our strength. Yet however
imperfect they may severally be, and even open one
by one to disparagement, together they form the
groundwork of the intellectual and moral life. No
man is strong or much prized who is not richly
temperamental.

332 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Mrs. Palmer's temperament was an ardent one.
She entered intensely into all she did. While aston-
ishingly responsive, and answering with almost equal
readiness the call of a bird or a human soul, she was
for the moment absorbed in each. Persons easily
played upon by things around are likely after a time
to find all trivial. But for her everything held its
importance, and even in repetition was fresh. She
had strong likes and dislikes, though there were
many more of the former, because under that pene-
trating eye each thing or person was pretty sure to
disclose points on which kindly interest might fasten.
But when she came upon a case of perversity, or
what at the moment she mistook for this, her indig-
nation was fierce. Shortly after her death one who
knew her well remarked to me, on reading a eulogy
of her, that the writer had missed his mark through
not mentioning her power of scorn. And I perceived
that he was right; scorn was an essential factor in
her. Few illustrated better than this tender and
sympathetic woman what our Scriptures mean by
"the wrath of the lamb." There were persons for
whom she felt a positive aversion.

Generally, however, like most of those engaged in
constructive work, she was optimistic, sanguine of
good in all, whether persons or events. Most things
have a bright and dark side. Her instinct was for
brightness. Being resourceful, too, and delighting

CHARACTER 333

to push a path through unknown regions, she readily
discovered in any human situation, however unpro-
pitious, some means of access to the good she sought.
The world was her playground. Obstacles, loss,
stubborn material, slender means, suffering, failure
even, only quickened her adroitness and brought
greater enjoyment to the game of life. A hardened
optimist I have elsewhere called her ; and probably
her spirit of persistent buoyancy is about the richest
gift which nature ever bestows on a traveller through
our perplexing world. She knew it to be a means of
power, prized it, cultivated it, and seldom allowed
work and play to become dissociated. Humor was
used unceasingly to oil the machinery of life. No
occasion was too grave for a good story. I have heard
of a little girl who on being reproved for laughter
during prayers queried, "Why, can't God take a
joke?" Mrs. Palmer thought He could; and while
deeply reverent, obliged serious and topsy-turvy
things to live in pretty close intimacy.

Yet when moods of depression came, as come to
all they will, she was perfectly frank in expressing
them. They are openly announced in several of the
letters which I have printed. Indeed I sometimes
thought that such moods, like all else in her world,
furnished a kind of fresh matter for amusement,
they were let loose with such unnecessary warmth.
Usually they sprang from fatigue. Of this iguomini-

334 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

ous root she seemed herself half conscious, aware
therefore that the abuse plentifully distributed to all
the world and its inhabitants belonged not so much
to it as to her own infirmity. But this reflection, if it
came, in no wise abated either her vehemence or her
sensible conduct. There were few of those she cared
for against whom she did not occasionally fulminate ;
and artificial though these denunciations were, and
little as they affected her devotion to their objects,
they held close to fact, were incisive, and as enter-
tainingly exuberant as her more frequent outbursts
of praise. They were in reality mere explosions,
temperamental modes of blowing off steam, practised
often when alone; for she had the habit of talking
much to herself. But she knew the difference between
a mood and a judgment, kept each in its place, and
put the former swiftly by as soon as occasion required.
If she happened to grow weary of a friend, she would
drop him for a time — often, I suspect, to his con-
siderable perplexity ; but at any moment of his need
he would find that all her love was warm and waiting.
" Life 's a chore," she would say as she trudged off
promptly to a disagreeable committee meeting. "I
want to do something," was a frequent cry when one
of these black moods was upon her. " Shall we play
a game, or have some reading, or will you lie down
and rest?" "No, no! I want to do something."
And then I must contrive an escapade, the crazier

CHARACTER 335

the better, to clear away the fretting deposit of the
day; after which she would hurry back joyfully to
work and people, and with all the more eagerness for
having temporarily put them by.

It is not necessary to speak further of her extreme
diligence, which has been illustrated on every page
of this book. I will merely reiterate two qualifica-
tions of it ; that while skilful in using fragments of
time, she seldom appeared in haste, nor ever lost the
ability to be idle. Yet most industrious persons are
orderly also, and this she was not. She often la-
mented it pathetically ; on her last departure for Eu-
rope, for example, bidding her sister go to a certain
closet, in case she did not return, and destroy all its
contents, because she would lose my respect if I came
upon such a rubbish heap. For sorting things as she
used them, and condemning some, her incapacity
was extreme. But I think the disorderliness was
chiefly confined to two matters : letters, which have
always a fragrant personality about them, and which
before her marriage had been generally cared for
by her secretary; and then other articles to which
her tenacious affections clung, articles many and mis-
cellaneous. She liked to keep things, regardless of
their use. A flower given by a friend, a pebble picked
up on a significant occasion, an old school-book, a
concert programme, a fragment of dress worn at
some festival, while acknowledged to be much in the

336 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

way, were exempt from destruction, and gradually
filled many a drawer and chest. But her business
habits were models of exactitude, and about her
rooms and person there could never be anything
in the least untidy. Of course her writing-table was
always a complete chaos; and a certain mode of
increasing that chaos may be mentioned, a pretty
way she had of dealing with letters which could not
immediately be answered. She would address an
envelope to the writer, stamp it, and tossing it on the
general pile, would appear to win an easy conscience
for a fairly extended delay.

Perhaps in closing this sketch of her temperament
I should mention again its strangely quickening
quality, its tendency to call forth as by a kind of magic
the best powers of whomever she came near. By
identifying herself with those about her she stirred
their imitative will. But as this occult process has
been pretty fully described elsewhere, I will here
merely cite two contrasted instances of it. The first
is that of a scholar and author, eminent in this
country and abroad. He writes : " When I last saw
Mrs. Palmer I was in a hopeless state, caring little
what I did, especially as regards writing. I never
mentioned this to her, but with that marvelous in-
stinct of hers I think she perceived it. At any rate
she began at once to kindle me, and before I knew
what was happening I was afire to do a man's work

CHARACTER 337

again. It is a deep regret that the book she prompted,
the most elaborate and influential I have written,
her death prevented me from laying in her hands
and saying, 'This have I done because you helped
me to do it by casual words of encouragement.' "

The second letter is from a farmer's wife: "She
gave so much of herself to every living thing! To
meet her at the Boxford Station in the morning
made the whole day bright. If she passed me in the
late afternoon on the long hill, she seemed the fairest
object in all that stretch of sweet country. I remem-
ber, too, how beautiful she was at the communion
table, with the uncovered head, in her summer
dresses. Even her pictures speak. I cut one from
the Boston paper that brought the news of her death.
It is pinned on the wall over my table. I often look
at it and promise, *I will be a better woman, Mrs.
Palmer, because you have lived.' And then out of
the great speaking eyes comes a merry glance that
shows me she understands."

Hitherto we have considered merely the instinc-
tive sides of her, — her temperament, habits, the
natural machinery which kept her in motion while
her intelligence was engaged with other things. But
that intelligence itself claims attention. It had the
same swiftness which characterized her throughout,
conducting her usually at once to the heart of a sub-
ject and allowing her to waste little time on side

338 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

issues. Her immediate judgments were sagacious
judgments. In discussion she caught the point
quickly, would summarize lucidly an argument she
had heard or a book she had read, and in dealing
with all sorts of people perceived by a kind of instinct
their state of mind and quickly adapted to it what-
ever she had to say. I have no need to enlarge on
the versatility of her mind; but will call attention
once more to the intellectual patience with which she
pursued distant and large ends, and also to her con-
stant preference of original and creative work to that
of mere routine.

Circumstances in the middle of her life may pos-
sibly have somewhat changed her mental bias. When
she went to college she was bent on becoming a
scholar, and for a time was drawn most strongly
toward mathematics and Greek, two subjects as
remote as any from practical affairs. Gradually his-
tory claimed her, and in it she began studies for the
doctorate. At this time, I judge, her aim was speciali-
zation, scientific scholarship. But in this country
any one who has both scholarly and administrative
talents is pretty sure to be called on to swamp the
former in the latter, particularly if he has his own
bread to earn. From the time she took charge of a
school the practical side of her nature was upper-
most. Perhaps it always had been. Though after-
wards for two years she taught history skilfully at

CHARACTER 339

Wellesley, she was even then more occupied with
guiding girls and organizing a college than with pure
scholarship. Somebody said of her at this time that
she was born to rule a nation by a turn of her
little finger. So it continued through subsequent
life: the practical reason, and not the theoretic,
remained her field. It was always the concrete thing,
the particular individual, the single institution with
its special problems, which engaged her. In what
masterly fashion she dealt with them I will not repeat.
My readers are already sufficiently familiar with her
sure observation, grasp, constructive power, ingenu-
ity, fair-mindedness, and estimate of values — all
qualities implying intellect of a high order. To me
the distinguishing marks of her mind, in all its forms
of outgo, are its speed, ease, and sanity.

Probably all her intellectual powers got effective-
ness and were prevented from damaging their owner
by that specialized control of attention which is fre-
quently seen in successful administrators. As each
separate person, topic, or situation came forward
for judgment, she gave it her whole mind ; and then,
after sentence pronounced, from her whole mind also
it disappeared. Such minds work in closed com-
partments and admit few straggling thoughts. At
times of business she did not look much before or
after, but straight into. This concentration I regard
as one of the surest indications of intellectual force.

340 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

In testing practical power we may well ask how long
can a person hold the attention firmly and freshly on
a single subject, and then how fully can he give it its
discharge? In my narrative this ability to switch
on and switch off has been amply illustrated.

Her moral nature was grounded in sympathy.
Beginning early, the identification of herself with
others grew into a constant habit, of unusual range
and delicacy. I have shown how in her childhood
each member of the family was called on to con-
tribute whatever he had to the common stock, how
each felt himself responsible for all, and separate
interests were unknown. This enforced public sense,
behind which she did not at that time go, became in
later years a conscious principle guiding her life,
and one which she longed to see guiding the lives of
all. To get anything at the cost of another was
impossible for her ; to keep anything which another
might need, painful. She suffered with those whom
she saw suffer. Righteousness is, after all, merely
the daily love of man — of man in his divinity,
weakness, aspirations, errors, interests, and idiosyn-
cracies. This Jesus announced, St. Francis preached,
and all great moralists have urged. To it Mrs.
Palmer had habituated herself until it imparted ele-
vation and sweetness to her commonest acts. Its
working will most easily be seen in a few trivial in-
stances.

CHARACTER 341

A poor woman of Boxford tells me that she was
leaning over her gate one evening, watching for her
husband's return, when Mrs. Palmer passed by.
As usual, she stopped to talk. Incidentally she
learned that the good wife's soup for supper was
waiting to be made till the farmer should bring a
couple of turnips from the village. Mrs. Palmer
walked on, but soon appeared again, turnips in hand.
The soup could be started.

One summer a young bride came to Boxford. In
calling on her, Mrs. Palmer wanted to hear every
detail of the wedding and to see the beautiful clothes.
Into the enjoyment of these fineries she entered
with unbounded zest, but said at the close, " Don't
wear them too often here. Plain dressing is best for
the country ; and clothes that put a distance between
you and other people are not nice." With such fra-
grant trifles her daily ways were strewn.

Being so sympathetic, she naturally enjoyed every-
body and condescended to none. Whether she min-
gled with scholars and business men, with children
and society women, with lawyers, school-girls, coun-
try folk, or criminals, she took them just as they
stood, found them all vividly interesting, and they
found her not less so. When in close contact with
wrongdoers, I think she seldom censured them, even
in her own mind, but felt the naturalness of their
case, the pity of it, the wealth of life they were losing,

342 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

and the longing — soon felt by them too — for
bridges of return. In one of his parables Jesus
warns his disciples against plucking up tares in fields
of grain. The roots of the two are so intertwined, he
thinks, that a hasty pull at the poorer may easily
damage, the better. Apparently some such view
made her tolerant of evil. To its eradication she gave
little heed, preferring rather to fertilize the good
until it should be strong enough to crowd out inferior
growths.

Most persons will agree that sympathy is the
predominantly feminine virtue, and that she who
lacks it cannot make its absence good by any col-
lection of other worthy qualities. In a true woman
sympathy directs all else. To find a virtue equally
central in a man we must turn to truthfulness or
courage. These also a woman should possess, as a
man too should be sympathetic ; but in her they take
a subordinate place, subservient to omnipresent
sympathy. Within these limits the ampler they are,
the nobler the woman.

I believe Mrs. Palmer had a full share of both these
manly excellences, and practised them in thoroughly
feminine fashion. She was essentially true, hating
humbug in all its disguises. Being a keen observer,
she knew a fact when she saw it and did not juggle
with herself by calling things what they are not.
Her love of plainness and distaste for affectation

CHARACTER 343

were forms of veracity. But in a narrative of hers
one got much besides plain realities. These had their
significance heightened by her eager emotion, and
their picturesqueness by her happy artistry. In
merry moods her fantastic exaggerations were
delightful. Of course the warmth of her sympathy
cut off all inclination to falsehood for its usual selfish
purpose. But against generous untruth she was not
so well guarded. Kindness was the first thing. In
dealing with a trembling soul, if the bluntness of
reality would hurt, its edges were smoothed. Tact
too, once become a habit, made adaptation to the
mind addressed a constant concern. She had ex-
traordinary skill in stuffing kindness with truth ; and
into a resisting mind could without irritation convey
a larger bulk of unwelcome fact than any one I have
known. But that insistence on colorless statement
which in our time the needs of trade and science
have made current among men, she did not feel.
Lapses from exactitude which do not separate person
from person she easily condoned.

Her courage was remarkable. President Eliot has
selected this trait for special eulogy: "One of the
most fascinating attributes of Mrs. Palmer was her
courage. She was one of the bravest persons I ever
saw, man or woman. Courage is a pleasing attribute
in a tough, powerful, healthy man; it is perfectly
delightful in a delicate, tender woman." But this

344 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

courage, extreme though it was, was also chiefly an
expression of social loyalty, victorious over personal
feeling. There was in it little of that blind push
which knows no danger; she had her feminine fears.
A cow, a mouse, a snake were objects of terror.
I seldom went to walk in Paris that she did not warn
me of the perils of street-crossings. She was sensitive
to the judgments of others, and shrank from having
anything in her dress, speech, or behavior remarked
as "queer." To be conspicuous was disagreeable.
But such timidities were altogether set aside the
moment aid could be given. In the public interest
or in helping those she loved she never faltered. No
difficulty, risk, or misconception stopped her serene
advance. Her mind appeared to gain additional
clearness and resolve in times of danger, and the
dependence of persons on her to be a chief source of
strength. Kant declares that in the voice of duty
we hear the assurance, "You can, because you
ought." Mrs. Palmer believed this fully. Wherever
there was human need she turned without measuring
powers or preferences. The time of her sister's death,
her presidency at Wellesley, the busy years of Cam-
bridge were crowded with cases of such easy hardi-
hood. Two little instances from private life will
show how exquisitely love could embolden her.

In 1896 I was ordered to undergo a serious surgical
operation. On leaving home for the Boston hospital

CHARACTER 345

I charged Mrs. Palmer not to visit me till the fol-
lowing noon, when the operation would be over.
But she timed her coming so as to arrive while I was
still in the surgeon's hands. She wanted an oppor-
tunity quietly to inspect my room. About it she
arranged pleasant articles from our home, and then
discovered that my pillow was not what she ap-
proved. Hurrying back to Cambridge, she seized
the long pillow from my bed, crossed Boston with
it in her arms — the four miles requiring a change
of electric cars and a considerable walk — reached
my room before I was brought in, and when I awoke
she was sitting by my head, which rested on the sacred
pillow. Subsequently I asked if she had not found
it disagreeable to expose herself on streets and in
public conveyances with so unusual a burden; but
she seemed hardly to comprehend my question. She
had been thinking of my comfort and had not no-
ticed smiling observers.

A few years later she herself was in a low state,
and I could get no exact account of what the matter
was. One Sunday, as I knelt beside her in the Box-
ford church, I saw a tear drop to the floor. Gaily,
however, she went off to Boston on Monday, saying
her doctor had promised full details of the case that
day. Toward evening I received a note announcing
that she was to be operated upon on the following
morning. Knowing that I was pledged to a difficult

346 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

piece of writing, she had kept her trouble to herself
so long as concealment was possible.

Between a life which so embodies those of its fel-
lows and a life of religion there is little difference;
but there is a little, and hers was a specifically
religious nature. In every call of human need she
heard the voice of God, summoning her to free his
children from selfishness and woe. The love of God,
it has been well said, is devotion to duty intensified
in intellectual clearness and in emotional strength
by the conviction that its aim is also that of a great
personality. This courage-bringing conviction she
had. All her morality was therefore touched with a
divine emotion. Her aims were unified. In solitude
and suffering she was not alone. She knew that the
stars in their courses shone on her designs, and ac-
cessible love throbbed through all things.

In my third chapter I have explained how this
clear consciousness of personal friendship with the
Ruler of all began in the perplexing exaltations of
the Windsor period. The larger love was revealed
through the limitations of the smaller. But the con-
secration then made was no temporary affair. It
bore the strains of more than thirty years, being
renewed in the Sunday schools of Ann Arbor, at
her sister's bedside, by spiritual ministrations at
Wellesley, and in the busy peace of the Cambridge
home. But hers was a free soul. Into her religion

CHARACTER 347

no dread entered. She rejoiced in the Lord and in
the power of his might. And just as her intercourse
with her fellow men was directed by sympathy for
their needs and interests, so did a kind of sympathy
with God shape her devotion. He was her steady
companion, so naturally a part of her hourly thought
that she attached little consequence to specific occa-
sions of intercourse. While she entered heartily into
church services, even when of a pretty rude order, her
Sundays hardly differed from other days. She had no
fixed times of prayer or devout reading, and in gen-
eral attached little importance to pious proprieties.
Prizing too spiritual diversity and bold with divine
affections, she welcomed every species of earnest
seeking after God. With all sorts of believers and
unbelievers she associated with equal freedom, and
felt God stirring in them all. Only two religious
animosities did I ever detect in her. She was uncom-
fortable with those who make of religion a thing
apart, an affair of performance and ritual ; and again
with the negationists and minimizers, those who
seek to reduce religion to its lowest terms, question-
ing its poetry and timid over a creed. Her own creed
was clear and strong, being that of the orthodox
faith. In ideal manhood she saw the complete revela-
tion of God. Reverently therefore she turned to Jesus
of Nazareth and sought to make her life, like his,
both human and divine.

348 ALICE FREEMAN PALMER

Such was the woman of whom these pages treat —
such, but oh how different ! I am painfully conscious
of my inability to revitalize so abounding a being.
The life-blood is gone. A person once dead can
hardly be made to walk again, certainly not by
analytic me. In order to be less inadequate I have
added to the earlier chapters, where she was moving
through affairs, this summary of her more important
traits. Yet such a precise and abstract statement
belittles anew. The qualities we admired in her,
taken singly, were fortunately not rare. Others pos-
sess them, possess them often in higher degree.
Only their combination was remarkable. In her
single person she harmonized what is commonly
conflicting; so that while she conveyed rather unusu-
ally the impression of being made all in one piece,
he who set out to describe her found himself obliged
to contradict in each new sentence whatever he had
asserted of her in his old. Such was her wealthy
unity, the despair of him who would portray. Per-
haps this is merely to say that she was very much of
a woman. At any rate, so it was : so simple, yet so
elusive was her blended nature.

And because of its combined variety and firmness
that nature contained some provision for all ; nor was
it ever closed to any. She seemed built for bounty,
and held nothing back. Gaily she went forth through-
out her too few years, scattering happiness up and

CHARACTER 349

down neglected ways. A fainting multitude flocked
around to share her wisdom, peace, hardihood, de-
voutness, and merriment; and more easily after-
wards accommodated themselves to their lot. Strength
continually went forth from her. She put on right-
eousness and it clothed her, and sound judgment was
her daily crown. Each eye that saw her blessed her;
each ear that heard her was made glad.

Hark hither, reader, will't thou see

Nature her own physician be.

Will't see a soul all her own wealth,

Her own music, her own health;

A soul whose sober thought can tell

How to wear her. garments well,

Her garments that upon her sit

(As garments should do) close and fit;

A well-cloth'd soul, that's not opprest

Nor chokt with what she should be drest,

But sheathed in a crystal shrine,

Through which all her bright features shine;

A soul whose intellectual beams

No mists do mask, no lazy steams;

A happy soul, that all the way

To heaven hath a summer's day;

Whose latest and most leaden hours

Fall with soft wings, please with gay flowers;

And when life's sweet fable ends

This soul and body part like friends;

No quarrels, murmurs, no delay;

A kiss, a sigh, and so away.

Adapted from RICHABD CRASHAW.

DATES

1855, February 21. Born at Colesville, New York.
1862-64. Father at Albany Medical School.

1864. Family moves to Windsor.

1865. Windsor Academy.
1872. Michigan University.

1875. Ottawa High School.

1876. B. A. Michigan. Geneva Lake Seminary.
1877-79. Saginaw High School.

1878. Family moves to Saginaw. Called to Wellesley.

1879. Stella Freeman dies. Professor of History at Welles-

ley.

1880. Severe illness.

1881. Mr. Durant dies. Acting President of Wellesley

College.

1882. President of Wellesley and Ph.D. Michigan. Col-

legiate Alumnae Association.

1884. In England.

1885. Norumbega Cottage.

1887. Litt. D. Columbia. Marries and moves to Cam-

bridge.

1888. Trustee of Wellesley College.
1888-89. In Europe.

1889. Woman's Home Missionary Society. Massachusetts

State Board of Education.

354 DATES

1891. Woman's Education Association.

1891. Board of Managers of World's Fair. Portrait

painted.

1892. Bust carved. University of Chicago.

1894. Quincy Street, Cambridge. Endowment for Rad-

cliffe College.
1895-96. In Europe.
1898. Bicycle Accident.
1900. International Institute for Girls in Spain. Bradford

Academy.
1902. Death.

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