XICHICAGO, Sunday the 26th, 1886.Dear Boy:—Such a close, muggy night this is that I feel little like writing to you or to anybody else. Yet I am not one to neglect or shirk a duty. I have been with Kate Field all the evening, and we have discussed everything from literature down to Sir Charles Dilke and back again. A mighty smart woman is Kate! My wife returned from St. Louis last Thursday, bringing about fifty of my books with her. They were mostly of the Bohn's Library series, but among them was a set of Boswell's Johnson, Routledge edition of 1859. I want you to have an edition of this kind, and I have sent to New York to see if it can be had (cheap). I am reading like a race-horse. The famous history of Dr. Faustus has done me a power of good, and I have been highly amused with a volume of Bohn which contains the old Ray proverbs.Isn't it about time for you to be getting back home? You have been gone about sixteen days now, and we are growing more and more lonesome. Peattie is looked for next Tuesday. Mr. Stone goes out of town to-morrow—to Dakota, I believe—and is to be absent for a week also. Shackelford will be back at work to-morrow. You alone are delinquent. Not only am I lonesome—egad, I am starving! So if you don't comein propria persona, at leastsendsomething. The old Dock has been as grumpy as a bear to-day and I have had a hard time bearing with him. He announced to me to-day that he thought that I was fickle—I tell you this so that you may repeat it to Miss Marie Mathilde, who, I believe, invented that opinion.Entre nous: Hawkins tells me that some of his friends are trying to buy the St. Paul Dispatch for him. There was a fire in the Chicago Opera House building to-night, but, unfortunately, no serious damage was done.Stone is thinking of having the three of us—Dock, you and your habit—write a department for the Saturday News after the fashion of the Noctes. Think it all over whilst you are away. What are you going to bring me for a present? Don't go to buying any foolish trumpery; you have no money to waste on follies. What I need is a "Noctes," and any other useful book you may get hold of in New York. Love to the folks.Ever yours,FIELD.
XI
CHICAGO, Sunday the 26th, 1886.
Dear Boy:—Such a close, muggy night this is that I feel little like writing to you or to anybody else. Yet I am not one to neglect or shirk a duty. I have been with Kate Field all the evening, and we have discussed everything from literature down to Sir Charles Dilke and back again. A mighty smart woman is Kate! My wife returned from St. Louis last Thursday, bringing about fifty of my books with her. They were mostly of the Bohn's Library series, but among them was a set of Boswell's Johnson, Routledge edition of 1859. I want you to have an edition of this kind, and I have sent to New York to see if it can be had (cheap). I am reading like a race-horse. The famous history of Dr. Faustus has done me a power of good, and I have been highly amused with a volume of Bohn which contains the old Ray proverbs.
Isn't it about time for you to be getting back home? You have been gone about sixteen days now, and we are growing more and more lonesome. Peattie is looked for next Tuesday. Mr. Stone goes out of town to-morrow—to Dakota, I believe—and is to be absent for a week also. Shackelford will be back at work to-morrow. You alone are delinquent. Not only am I lonesome—egad, I am starving! So if you don't comein propria persona, at leastsendsomething. The old Dock has been as grumpy as a bear to-day and I have had a hard time bearing with him. He announced to me to-day that he thought that I was fickle—I tell you this so that you may repeat it to Miss Marie Mathilde, who, I believe, invented that opinion.Entre nous: Hawkins tells me that some of his friends are trying to buy the St. Paul Dispatch for him. There was a fire in the Chicago Opera House building to-night, but, unfortunately, no serious damage was done.
Stone is thinking of having the three of us—Dock, you and your habit—write a department for the Saturday News after the fashion of the Noctes. Think it all over whilst you are away. What are you going to bring me for a present? Don't go to buying any foolish trumpery; you have no money to waste on follies. What I need is a "Noctes," and any other useful book you may get hold of in New York. Love to the folks.
Ever yours,
FIELD.
The proposed "Noctes," except the set for Field, never materialized.
XIICHICAGO, September 28th, 1886.Dear Nomp:—I am just cunning enough to send this to the care of our New York office, for I surmise that it will reach there in time to intercept you. I do not intend that you shall get out of New York without being reminded of that present you intend bringing me for being so good as to write to you regularly whilst you were away. I confidently expect to see you back here next Sunday. On Monday I go to Indianapolis for two or three days, and I heartily wish you were going with me to help bear the expense of the trip. In fact, I am so anxious to have you along that I would cheerfully consent to letting you pay everything. But at any rate I agree to take supper with you at Mr. Pullman's godless hotel the night you return. The Dock invited me out to supper to-night. We went to the Drum. Suspecting that I was going to exceed his capability of payment, he handed me over a dollar—all the money he had. I had the check charged to me and kept the dollar. Whereat the Dock grieves passing sore.I have begun to surmise that my remarks about Literary Life will lead to Miss Cleveland's retirement from the editorship of that delectable mush-bucket. The signs all point that way now. I enclose you a letter to my friend Mitchell of the Sun. Tell him about the Goethe poem. I promised to send him a copy of it when Literary Life printed it. Scrutinize young Kingsbury's daily life carefully. Heaven forefend all the temptations that compass him in the modern Babylon. Give my love to Mr. Scribner.Yours as ever,FIELD.
XII
CHICAGO, September 28th, 1886.
Dear Nomp:—I am just cunning enough to send this to the care of our New York office, for I surmise that it will reach there in time to intercept you. I do not intend that you shall get out of New York without being reminded of that present you intend bringing me for being so good as to write to you regularly whilst you were away. I confidently expect to see you back here next Sunday. On Monday I go to Indianapolis for two or three days, and I heartily wish you were going with me to help bear the expense of the trip. In fact, I am so anxious to have you along that I would cheerfully consent to letting you pay everything. But at any rate I agree to take supper with you at Mr. Pullman's godless hotel the night you return. The Dock invited me out to supper to-night. We went to the Drum. Suspecting that I was going to exceed his capability of payment, he handed me over a dollar—all the money he had. I had the check charged to me and kept the dollar. Whereat the Dock grieves passing sore.
I have begun to surmise that my remarks about Literary Life will lead to Miss Cleveland's retirement from the editorship of that delectable mush-bucket. The signs all point that way now. I enclose you a letter to my friend Mitchell of the Sun. Tell him about the Goethe poem. I promised to send him a copy of it when Literary Life printed it. Scrutinize young Kingsbury's daily life carefully. Heaven forefend all the temptations that compass him in the modern Babylon. Give my love to Mr. Scribner.
Yours as ever,
FIELD.
Field's satirical comments on Literary Life, a weekly that sought to make capital by engaging President Cleveland's sister, Miss Rose Cleveland, as its editor, not only led to her early retirement from an impossible position, but to the early collapse of the publication itself. When Miss Cleveland first came to Chicago to assume the duties of editorship Field welcomed her in verse:
THE ROSESince the days of old Adam the welkin has rungWith the praises of sweet-scented posies,And poets in rapturous phrases have sungThe paramount beauty of roses.Wheresoever she 'bides, whether resting in lanesOr gracing the proud urban bowers,The red, royal rose her distinction maintainsAs the one regnant queen among flowers.How joyous are we of the West when we findThat Fate, with her gifts ever chary,Has decreed that the rose who is queen of her kindShall bloom on our wild Western prairie.Let us laugh at the East as an impotent thingWith envy and jealousy crazy,While grateful Chicago is happy to singIn praise of the rose, she's a daisy.
THE ROSE
THE ROSE
Since the days of old Adam the welkin has rungWith the praises of sweet-scented posies,And poets in rapturous phrases have sungThe paramount beauty of roses.
Since the days of old Adam the welkin has rung
With the praises of sweet-scented posies,
And poets in rapturous phrases have sung
The paramount beauty of roses.
Wheresoever she 'bides, whether resting in lanesOr gracing the proud urban bowers,The red, royal rose her distinction maintainsAs the one regnant queen among flowers.
Wheresoever she 'bides, whether resting in lanes
Or gracing the proud urban bowers,
The red, royal rose her distinction maintains
As the one regnant queen among flowers.
How joyous are we of the West when we findThat Fate, with her gifts ever chary,Has decreed that the rose who is queen of her kindShall bloom on our wild Western prairie.
How joyous are we of the West when we find
That Fate, with her gifts ever chary,
Has decreed that the rose who is queen of her kind
Shall bloom on our wild Western prairie.
Let us laugh at the East as an impotent thingWith envy and jealousy crazy,While grateful Chicago is happy to singIn praise of the rose, she's a daisy.
Let us laugh at the East as an impotent thing
With envy and jealousy crazy,
While grateful Chicago is happy to sing
In praise of the rose, she's a daisy.
CHAPTER V
PUBLICATION OF HIS FIRST BOOKS
Although the bibliomaniac and collector will claim that "The Tribune Primer," printed in Denver in 1882, was Eugene Field's first book, and cite the fact that a copy of this rare pamphlet recently sold for $125 as proof that it is still his most valuable contribution to literature, his first genuine entrance into the world of letters between covers came with the publication of "Culture's Garland," by Ticknor & Company, of Boston, in August, 1887. Whatever may be the truth as to the size of the first edition of the "Primer," so few copies were printed and its distribution was so limited that it scarcely amounted to a bona-fide publication. Neither did the form of the "Primer," a little 18mo pamphlet of forty-eight pages, bound in pink paper covers, nor its ephemeral newspaper persiflage, rise to the dignity of a book.
"Culture's Garland," on the contrary, marks the first real essay of Field as a maker of books. Field himself is the authority for the statement that "Tom" Ticknor edited the book. "I simply sent on a lot of stuff," wrote he, "and the folks at the other end picked out what they wanted and ran it as they pleased." This is scarcely just to Mr. Ticknor. Field himself, to my knowledge, selected the matter for "Culture's Garland," and arranged it in the general form in which it appeared. He then delegated to Mr. Ticknor authority to reject any and all paragraphs in which the bite of satire or the broadness of the humor transgressed too far the bounds of a reasonable discretion. The true nature of this, to my mind the most entertaining of all Field's books, is reflected in its title page, frontispiece, emblem, tail-piece, and the advertisements with which it concludes. The full title reads:
CULTURE'S GARLAND
Being Memoranada of The Gradual Rise of Literature, Art, Music,And Society in Chicago, and OtherWestern Ganglia
byEUGENE FIELD
With an Introduction byJulian Hawthorne.
The frontispiece is a pen-and-ink sketch of "the Author at the Age of 30 (A.D. 1880)," such as Field frequently drew of himself; the symbolic emblem, which takes the place of a dedication, was a string of link sausages "in the similitude of a laurel wreath," representing "A Chicago Literary Circle," and the tail-piece was a gallows, to mark "The End."
Writing to a friend in Boston, in 1893, Field said that he thought "the alleged advertisements at the end of the volume are its best feature." These were introduced by a letter from one of Field's favorite fictitious creations, "Felix Bosbyshell," to Messrs. Ticknor & Co.:
CHICAGO, June 26th, 1887.Dear Sirs:—I am informed that one of the leadinglittérateursof this city is about to produce a book under your auspices. Representing, as I do, the prominent advertising bureau of the West, I desire to contribute one page of advertisements to this work, and I am prepared to pay therefor cash rates. I enclose copy, and would like to have the advertisements printed on the fly-leaf which will face thefinisof the book in question.Yours in the cause of literature,FELIX J. BOSBYSHELL,For Bosbyshell & Co.
CHICAGO, June 26th, 1887.
Dear Sirs:—I am informed that one of the leadinglittérateursof this city is about to produce a book under your auspices. Representing, as I do, the prominent advertising bureau of the West, I desire to contribute one page of advertisements to this work, and I am prepared to pay therefor cash rates. I enclose copy, and would like to have the advertisements printed on the fly-leaf which will face thefinisof the book in question.
Yours in the cause of literature,
FELIX J. BOSBYSHELL,For Bosbyshell & Co.
This was accompanied by a Publisher's Note, which Field also supplied:
It is entirely foreign to our custom to accept advertisements for our books; but we recognize the exceptional nature of the case and the fine literary character and high tone of the Messrs. Bosbyshells' offering, and we cheerfully give it place over leaf.In his discriminating and felicitous introduction to his friend's book, Julian Hawthorne said: "The present little volume comprises mainly a bubbling forth of delightful badinage and mischievous raillery, directed at some of the foibles and pretensions of his enterprising fellow-townsmen, who, however, can by no means be allowed to claim a monopoly of either the pretensions or the foibles herein exploited. Laugh, but look to yourself:mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur. It is a book which should, and doubtless will, attain a national popularity; but admirable, and, indeed, irresistible though it be in its way, it represents a very inconsiderable fraction of the author's real capacity. We shall hear of Eugene Field in regions of literature far above the aim and scope of these witty and waggish sketches. But as the wise orator wins his audience at the outset of his speech by the human sympathy of a smile, so does our author, in these smiling pages, establish genial relations with us before betaking himself to more ambitious flights."
It is entirely foreign to our custom to accept advertisements for our books; but we recognize the exceptional nature of the case and the fine literary character and high tone of the Messrs. Bosbyshells' offering, and we cheerfully give it place over leaf.
In his discriminating and felicitous introduction to his friend's book, Julian Hawthorne said: "The present little volume comprises mainly a bubbling forth of delightful badinage and mischievous raillery, directed at some of the foibles and pretensions of his enterprising fellow-townsmen, who, however, can by no means be allowed to claim a monopoly of either the pretensions or the foibles herein exploited. Laugh, but look to yourself:mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur. It is a book which should, and doubtless will, attain a national popularity; but admirable, and, indeed, irresistible though it be in its way, it represents a very inconsiderable fraction of the author's real capacity. We shall hear of Eugene Field in regions of literature far above the aim and scope of these witty and waggish sketches. But as the wise orator wins his audience at the outset of his speech by the human sympathy of a smile, so does our author, in these smiling pages, establish genial relations with us before betaking himself to more ambitious flights."
PAGE OF ADVERTISEMENTS FROM "CULTURE'S GARLAND."
PAGE OF ADVERTISEMENTS FROM "CULTURE'S GARLAND."
While Mr. Hawthorne's analysis of the book was correct, his prophecy as to its attaining a national popularity was never realized. The literary critics, East as well as West, whose views and pretensions Field had so often lampooned mercilessly, had their innings, and as Field had not then conquered the popular heart with his "Little Boy Blue," his matchless lullabies, and his fascinating fairy tales and other stories, "Culture's Garland" was left to cumber the shelves of the book-stores. Several of the articles and poems in this book have been included in the collected edition of Field's works. In it will be found Field's famous "Markessy di Pullman" papers, with these clever introductory imitations:
"Il bianco di cazerni della graze fio bellaDi teruca si mazzoni quel' antisla Somno della."—Petrarch."He who conduces to a fellow's sleepShould noble fame and goodly riches reap."—Tasso."Sleep mocks at death: when weary of the earthWe do not die—we take an upper berth."—Dante.
"Il bianco di cazerni della graze fio bellaDi teruca si mazzoni quel' antisla Somno della."—Petrarch.
"Il bianco di cazerni della graze fio bella
Di teruca si mazzoni quel' antisla Somno della."
—Petrarch.
"He who conduces to a fellow's sleepShould noble fame and goodly riches reap."—Tasso.
"He who conduces to a fellow's sleep
Should noble fame and goodly riches reap."
—Tasso.
"Sleep mocks at death: when weary of the earthWe do not die—we take an upper berth."—Dante.
"Sleep mocks at death: when weary of the earth
We do not die—we take an upper berth."
—Dante.
There, too, are reprinted the verses he composed and credited to Judge Cooley, to which allusion has already been made in these pages, and of which Field wrote to his friend Cowen the week they were published: "I think they will create somewhat of a sensation; I have put a good deal of work upon them." All the pieces of verse read by Field at the Indianapolis convention also appear in "Culture's Garland," three of them being included in the article on "Mr. Isaac Watts, Tutor," of which "The Merciful Lad" was one of Field's favorites:
THE MERCIFUL LADThrough all my life the poor shall findIn me a constant friend,And on the weak of every kindMy mercy shall attend.The dumb shall never call on meIn vain for kindly aid,And in my hands the blind shall seeA bounteous alms display'd.In all their walks the lame shall knowAnd feel my goodness near,And on the deaf will I bestowMy gentlest words of cheer.'Tis by such pious works as these—Which I delight to do—That men their fellow-creatures please,And please their Maker, too.
THE MERCIFUL LAD
THE MERCIFUL LAD
Through all my life the poor shall findIn me a constant friend,And on the weak of every kindMy mercy shall attend.
Through all my life the poor shall find
In me a constant friend,
And on the weak of every kind
My mercy shall attend.
The dumb shall never call on meIn vain for kindly aid,And in my hands the blind shall seeA bounteous alms display'd.
The dumb shall never call on me
In vain for kindly aid,
And in my hands the blind shall see
A bounteous alms display'd.
In all their walks the lame shall knowAnd feel my goodness near,And on the deaf will I bestowMy gentlest words of cheer.
In all their walks the lame shall know
And feel my goodness near,
And on the deaf will I bestow
My gentlest words of cheer.
'Tis by such pious works as these—Which I delight to do—That men their fellow-creatures please,And please their Maker, too.
'Tis by such pious works as these—
Which I delight to do—
That men their fellow-creatures please,
And please their Maker, too.
Field was immensely tickled with the British gravity of one of his critics, who ridiculed this imitation of Dr. Watts, because, forsooth, he could not comprehend how the dumb could call, the blind see, or the lame walk, while he wanted to know what gracious effect the gentlest words could produce on the ears of the deaf.
Throughout "Culture's Garland" Field is the unsparing satirist of contemporary humbug and pretence—social, political, and literary—and that perhaps accounts for its failure to achieve an immediate popular success. I, for one, am glad that so late as December, 1893, and after he had tasted the sweets of popular applause, with its attendant royalties, he had the courage to write of it to a friend in Boston, "I am not ashamed of this little book, but, like the boy with the measles, I am sorry for it in spots."
"Culture's Garland" really cleared the way for Field's subsequent literary success. It taught him the lesson that his average daily newspaper work had not body enough to fill out the covers of a book. With grim determination he set himself the task to master the art of telling stories in prose. He was absolutely confident of himself in verse, but to his dying day he was never quite satisfied with anything he wrote in prose. His poems went to the printer almost exactly as they were originally composed. Nearly all of his tales were written over and over again with fastidious pains before they were committed to type. Every word and sentence of such stories as "The Robin and the Violet," "The First Christmas Tree," "Margaret, a Pearl," and "The Mountain and the Sea" was scrutinized and weighed by his keen literary sense and discriminating ear before it was permitted to pass final muster. In only one instance do I remember that this extreme care failed to improve the original story. "The Werewolf" ("Second Book of Tales") was a more powerful and moving fancy as first written than as eventually printed. He consulted with me during four revisions of "The Werewolf," and told me that he had written the whole thing over seven times. I never knew him so finicky and beset with doubts as to the use of words and phrases as he was in this instance. The result is a marvellous piece of technicality perfect archaic old English mosaic, with the soul—the fascinating shudder—refined, out of a weird and fearful tale.
But all the care, study, and exercise Field put upon his prose stories bore fruit in the gradual improvement in tone and style of his daily composition. His study of old English ballads started him about this time on the production of a truly remarkable series of lullabies, while his work began to show more and more the influence of Father Prout. But the old Field continued to show itself in such occasional quatrains as this:
For there was Egypt in her eye—The languor of the South—Persia was in her perfumed sigh,And Turkey in her mouth.
For there was Egypt in her eye—The languor of the South—Persia was in her perfumed sigh,And Turkey in her mouth.
For there was Egypt in her eye—
The languor of the South—
Persia was in her perfumed sigh,
And Turkey in her mouth.
Along in January, 1889, began the frequent paraphrases from Horace. "Wynken, Blynken and Nod," over which Field expended more than the usual pains he bestowed on his verse, was printed in March of the same year. One day in April, in 1889, Field surprised and delighted the readers of the News with the publication of the following amazing array of verse in one issue: "Our Two Opinions," Horace I, 4; Heine's "Love Song," Horace I, 20; Hugo's "Pool in the Forest," Horace I, 5; Béranger's "Broken Fiddle," Horace I, 28; "Chloe"; Uhland's "Three Cavaliers," and Horace IV, 11.
It must not be imagined that this was the result of one day's or one week's work. He had been preparing for it for months; and each piece of versification was as perfect as he could make it. The amazement and widely expressed admiration with which this broadside of verse was received encouraged Field to a still greatertour de force, upon the preparation of which he bent all his energies and spare time for more than three months. What Field described in a letter to Cowen as "The 'Golden Week' in my newspaper career," consisted in "the paper running a column of my (his) verse per diem—something never before attempted in American journalism." The titles of the verse printed during the "Golden Week" testify alike to his industry and versatility:
THE GOLDEN WEEK,JULY 15TH-20TH, 1889.Monday, July 15, "Prof. Vere de Blaw."Tuesday, "Horace to His Patron," "Poet and King," "Alaskan Lullaby," "Lizzie," "Horace I, 30."Wednesday, "The Conversazzhyony."Thursday, "Egyptian Folk Song," Béranger's "To My Old Coat," "Horace's Sailor and Shade," "Uhland's Chapel," "Guess," "Alaskan Balladry."Friday, "Marthy's Younkit," "Fairy and Child," "A Heine Love Song," "Jennie," "Horace I, 27."Saturday, "The Happy Isles of Horace," Béranger's "Ma Vocation," "Child and Mother," "The Bibliomaniac's Bride," "Alaskan Balladry, No. 2," "Mediæval Eventide Song."
THE GOLDEN WEEK,JULY 15TH-20TH, 1889.
Monday, July 15, "Prof. Vere de Blaw."
Tuesday, "Horace to His Patron," "Poet and King," "Alaskan Lullaby," "Lizzie," "Horace I, 30."
Wednesday, "The Conversazzhyony."
Thursday, "Egyptian Folk Song," Béranger's "To My Old Coat," "Horace's Sailor and Shade," "Uhland's Chapel," "Guess," "Alaskan Balladry."
Friday, "Marthy's Younkit," "Fairy and Child," "A Heine Love Song," "Jennie," "Horace I, 27."
Saturday, "The Happy Isles of Horace," Béranger's "Ma Vocation," "Child and Mother," "The Bibliomaniac's Bride," "Alaskan Balladry, No. 2," "Mediæval Eventide Song."
Upon some of these now familiar poems Field had been at work for more than a month. He read to me portions of "Marthy's Younkit" as early as the spring of 1887. Among the letters which his guardian, Mr. Gray, kindly placed at my disposal, I find the following bearing on "The Golden Week." It is written from the Benedict Farm, Genoa Junction, Wis., some sixty miles from Chicago, to which Field had retired to recuperate after having provided enough poetry in advance to fill his column during the week of his absence:
DEAR MR. GRAY: I send herewith copies of poems which have appeared in the Daily News this week. I am proud to have been the first newspaper man to have made the record of a column of original verse every day for a week; I am greatly mistaken if this feeling of pardonable pride is not shared by you. I regard some of the poems as my best work so far, but I shall do better yet if my life is spared. We are rusticating here by the side of a Wisconsin lake this summer. Farm board seems to agree with us and we shall in all likelihood remain here until September. I have been grievously afflicted with nervous dyspepsia for a month, but am much better just now. The paper gives me a three months' European vacation whensoever I wish to go. At present I intend to go in the winter and shall take Julia and Mary (Trotty) with me. I do wish that Mrs. Gray would write to me; I want to know all about her home affairs and especially about Mrs. Bacon—my grudge against herin remince pie has expired under the statute of limitations. God bless you, dear friend—you and yours,Affectionately,EUGENE FIELD.
DEAR MR. GRAY: I send herewith copies of poems which have appeared in the Daily News this week. I am proud to have been the first newspaper man to have made the record of a column of original verse every day for a week; I am greatly mistaken if this feeling of pardonable pride is not shared by you. I regard some of the poems as my best work so far, but I shall do better yet if my life is spared. We are rusticating here by the side of a Wisconsin lake this summer. Farm board seems to agree with us and we shall in all likelihood remain here until September. I have been grievously afflicted with nervous dyspepsia for a month, but am much better just now. The paper gives me a three months' European vacation whensoever I wish to go. At present I intend to go in the winter and shall take Julia and Mary (Trotty) with me. I do wish that Mrs. Gray would write to me; I want to know all about her home affairs and especially about Mrs. Bacon—my grudge against herin remince pie has expired under the statute of limitations. God bless you, dear friend—you and yours,
Affectionately,
EUGENE FIELD.
Although Field's body was rusticating on farm fare in Wisconsin, his pen was furnishing its two thousand three hundred words a day to the Daily News, as the "Sharps and Flats" column through the summer of 1889 shows. In a letter written from the Benedict Farm during the Golden Week to Cowen, who was at this time in London working on the English edition of the New York Herald, Field unfolds some of his doings and plans:
The copies of the London Herald came to hand to-day; I am sure I am very much indebted to you for the boom you are giving me; it is of distinct value to me, and I appreciate it. I send you herewith a number of my verses that have appeared this week in my column. Having done my work ahead I am rusticating in great shape and have become a veritable terror to the small fry in which the lakes of this delectable locality abound. My books will be issued about the first of August; they will be very pretty pieces of work; I shall send you a set at once. My western verse seems to be catching on; I notice that a good many others of the boys are striking out in the same vein. Young McCarthy has made a translation from the Persian, and I have half a notion to paraphrase parts of it. I want to dip around in all sorts of versification, simply to show people that determination and perseverance can accomplish much in this direction. You know that I do not set much store by "genius."
The books to which Field refers as likely to be issued about the first of August were his two "Little Books" of verse and tales, the copy for which had not, when he wrote the foregoing, all gone to the printer. His idea then was that a book could be got out with something like the same lightning dispatch as a daily newspaper.
To tell the story of the publication of Field's two "Little Books," unique as it was in the making of books, requires that I say a few words of the change that had come over our personal relations, though not in our friendship. Two causes operated to make this change—my marriage in the spring of 1887, which drew from Field "Ye Piteous Appeal of a Forsooken Habbit" and the manuscript volumes of the best of his verse prior to that event, and my retirement from the staff of the Daily News, to assist in the foundation of the weekly political and literary journal called America. It was through my persuasion that we secured from Field his now famous "Little Boy Blue" for the initial number of the new periodical. Many stories are extant as to how this affecting bit of child verse was written, and many fac-similes of copies of it in Field's handwriting have been printed as originals. But the truth is, "Little Boy Blue" was written without any special suggestion or personal experience attending its conception and composition. It was an honest child, begotten of the freest and best genius of Field's fancy—the genius of a master craftsman who had the instinct to use only the simplest means to tell the significant story of the little toy dog that is covered with dust and the little toy soldier that is red with rust in so many a home.
Field handed his original copy of "Little Boy Blue" to me in the Daily News office. We read it over carefully together, and there I, with his consent, made the change in the seventh line of the last verse, that may be noted in the fac-simile. With my interlineation the copy went to the printer, who had orders to return it to me, which was accordingly done, and it has been in my possession ever since.
Field made several other noteworthy contributions to the pages of America, including such important verse or articles as "Apple Pie and Cheese," "To Robin Goodfellow," "A Proper Trewe Idyll of Camelot," "The Shadwell Folio," "Poe, Patterson, and Oquawka," "The Holy Cross," and "The Three Kings." The most remarkable of these was undoubtedly "The Shadwell Folio," which ran through two issues of America and afforded a prose setting for the following proofs of Field's versatility: "The Death of Robin Hood," "The Alliaunce," "Madge: Ye Hoyden," "The Lost Schooner," "Ye Crewel Sassinger Mill," "The Texas Steere," "A Vallentine," "Waly, Waly," "Ailsie, My Bairn," "Ye Morris Daunce," "Ye Battaile Aux Dames," "How Trewe Love Won Ye Battel," "Lollaby" (old English).
The first section of the "Shadwell Folio" appeared in the issue of America of October 25th, 1888. It was one of those conceits in which Field took the greatest pleasure and in the preparation of which he grudged no labor. It purported to be a parchment folio discovered in an old hair trunk by Colonel John C. Shadwell, "a wealthy and aristocratic contractor," while laying certain main and sewer pipes in the cellar of a deserted frame house at 1423 Michigan Street, Chicago. This number would have located the cellar well out in Lake Michigan. Colonel Shadwell presented this incomparable folio to "The Ballad and Broadside Society of Cook County, Illinois, for the Discovery of Ancient Manuscripts and for the Dissemination of Culture (limited)." On receipt of the folio, this society immediately adopted the following resolutions:
Resolved, That the ballads set forth in the parchment manuscript, known as the Shadwell folio, are genuine old English ballads, composed by English balladists, and illustrating most correctly life in Chicago in Ancient Times, which is to say, before the fire.
Resolved, That the parchment cover of said folio is, in our opinion, neither pigskin nor sheep, but genuine calf, and undoubtedly the pelt of the original fatted calf celebrated in Shakespeare's play of the "Prodigal Son."
Resolved, That we hail with pride these indisputable proofs that our refinement and culture had an ancestry, and that our present civilization did not spring, as ribald scoffers have alleged, mushroom-like from the sties and wallows of the prairies.
Resolved, That we get these ballads printed in an edition of not to exceed 500 copies, and at a cost of $50 per copy, or, at least, at a price beyond the capability of the hoy polloi.
Field then proceeded to review the contents of the fictitious folio, taking the precaution to premise his remarks and extracts with the statement that "it must not be surmised that all the poems in this Shadwell folio are purely local; quite a number treat of historical subjects." Of the poems in the first half of "The Shadwell Folio" I am able to give one of the most interesting in fac-simile, premising that, although this did not see the light of print until October, 1888, it was written in an early month of 1887.
On pages 19 and 20 of the folio, according to Field, we get a "pleasant glimpse of the rare old time" in the ballad entitled:
THE ALLIAUNCE
THE ALLIAUNCE
Come hither, gossip, let us sitbeneath this plaisaunt vine;I fain wolde counsel thee a bitwhiles that we sip our wine.The air is cool and we can hearthe voicing of the kinecome from the pasture lot anearthe styes where grunt the swine.See how that Tom, my sone, doth farewith posies in his hands—Methinks he minds to mend him wherethy dochter waiting stands.Boys will be boys and girls be girlsfor Godde hath willed it soe;Thy dochter Tib hath goodly curles—my Toms none fole, I trom.His evening chores ben all to-done,and she hath fed the pigges,and now the village green uponthey daunce and sing their jigges.His squeaking crowd the fiddler plies,And Tom and Tib can seeThe babies in echoders eyes—saye, neighbour, shall it bee?Nould give Frank in goodly store—that I; in sooth, ne can;but I have steers and hoggs gillore—and thats what makes the man!Your family trees and blade be naughtIn these progressive years—The only blode that counts (goes?) for aughtIs blode of piggs and steeres!So, gossip, let us found a lineOn mouton, porke and beefe;The which in coming years shall shineIn cultures world as chief.Sic stout and braw a sone as mineI lay youle never see,and theres nae huskier wench than thine—Saye, neighbor, shall it bee?
Come hither, gossip, let us sitbeneath this plaisaunt vine;I fain wolde counsel thee a bitwhiles that we sip our wine.The air is cool and we can hearthe voicing of the kinecome from the pasture lot anearthe styes where grunt the swine.See how that Tom, my sone, doth farewith posies in his hands—Methinks he minds to mend him wherethy dochter waiting stands.Boys will be boys and girls be girlsfor Godde hath willed it soe;Thy dochter Tib hath goodly curles—my Toms none fole, I trom.His evening chores ben all to-done,and she hath fed the pigges,and now the village green uponthey daunce and sing their jigges.His squeaking crowd the fiddler plies,And Tom and Tib can seeThe babies in echoders eyes—saye, neighbour, shall it bee?Nould give Frank in goodly store—that I; in sooth, ne can;but I have steers and hoggs gillore—and thats what makes the man!Your family trees and blade be naughtIn these progressive years—The only blode that counts (goes?) for aughtIs blode of piggs and steeres!So, gossip, let us found a lineOn mouton, porke and beefe;The which in coming years shall shineIn cultures world as chief.Sic stout and braw a sone as mineI lay youle never see,and theres nae huskier wench than thine—Saye, neighbor, shall it bee?
Come hither, gossip, let us sitbeneath this plaisaunt vine;I fain wolde counsel thee a bitwhiles that we sip our wine.
Come hither, gossip, let us sit
beneath this plaisaunt vine;
I fain wolde counsel thee a bit
whiles that we sip our wine.
The air is cool and we can hearthe voicing of the kinecome from the pasture lot anearthe styes where grunt the swine.
The air is cool and we can hear
the voicing of the kine
come from the pasture lot anear
the styes where grunt the swine.
See how that Tom, my sone, doth farewith posies in his hands—Methinks he minds to mend him wherethy dochter waiting stands.
See how that Tom, my sone, doth fare
with posies in his hands—
Methinks he minds to mend him where
thy dochter waiting stands.
Boys will be boys and girls be girlsfor Godde hath willed it soe;Thy dochter Tib hath goodly curles—my Toms none fole, I trom.
Boys will be boys and girls be girls
for Godde hath willed it soe;
Thy dochter Tib hath goodly curles—
my Toms none fole, I trom.
His evening chores ben all to-done,and she hath fed the pigges,and now the village green uponthey daunce and sing their jigges.
His evening chores ben all to-done,
and she hath fed the pigges,
and now the village green upon
they daunce and sing their jigges.
His squeaking crowd the fiddler plies,And Tom and Tib can seeThe babies in echoders eyes—saye, neighbour, shall it bee?
His squeaking crowd the fiddler plies,
And Tom and Tib can see
The babies in echoders eyes—
saye, neighbour, shall it bee?
Nould give Frank in goodly store—that I; in sooth, ne can;but I have steers and hoggs gillore—and thats what makes the man!
Nould give Frank in goodly store—
that I; in sooth, ne can;
but I have steers and hoggs gillore—
and thats what makes the man!
Your family trees and blade be naughtIn these progressive years—The only blode that counts (goes?) for aughtIs blode of piggs and steeres!
Your family trees and blade be naught
In these progressive years—
The only blode that counts (goes?) for aught
Is blode of piggs and steeres!
So, gossip, let us found a lineOn mouton, porke and beefe;The which in coming years shall shineIn cultures world as chief.
So, gossip, let us found a line
On mouton, porke and beefe;
The which in coming years shall shine
In cultures world as chief.
Sic stout and braw a sone as mineI lay youle never see,and theres nae huskier wench than thine—Saye, neighbor, shall it bee?
Sic stout and braw a sone as mine
I lay youle never see,
and theres nae huskier wench than thine—
Saye, neighbor, shall it bee?
On pages 123 and 124 of the folio Field discovered "this ballad of Chicago's patient Grissel (erroneously pronounced 'Gristle' in leading western circles), setting forth the miseries and the fate of a lass who loved a sailor ":
THE LOST SCHOONERHard by ye lake, beneath ye shade,Upon a somer's daye,There ben a faire Chicago maidThat greeting sore did saye:I wonder where can Willie bee—O waly, waly! woe is mee!He fared him off on Aprille 4,And now 'tis August 2,I stood upon ye slimy shooreAnd swere me to be trewe;I sawe yt schippe bear out to sea—O waly, waly! woe is mee!"Ye schippe she ben as braw an hulkAs ever clave ye tides,And in her hold she bore a bulkOf new-mown pelts and hides—Pelts ben they all of high degree—O waly, waly! woe is mee!"Ye schippes yt saile untill ye towneFfor mee no plaisaunce hath,Syn most of them ben loded downWith schingle, slabs and lath;That ither schipp—say, where is shee?O waly, waly! woe is mee!"Ye Mary Jane ben lode with logs,Ye Fairy Belle with beer—Ye Mackinack ben Ffull of hoggsAnd ither carnal cheer;But nony pelt nor hide I see—O waly, waly! woe is mee!"And ither schippes bring salt and ore,And some bring hams and sides,And some bring garden truck gillore—But none brings pelt and hides!Where can my Willie's schooner be—O waly, waly! woe is mee!"So wailed ye faire Chicago maideUpon ye shady shore,And swounded oft whiles yt she prayedHer loon to come oncet more,And crying, "Waly, woe is mee,"That maiden's harte did brast in three.
THE LOST SCHOONER
THE LOST SCHOONER
Hard by ye lake, beneath ye shade,Upon a somer's daye,There ben a faire Chicago maidThat greeting sore did saye:I wonder where can Willie bee—O waly, waly! woe is mee!
Hard by ye lake, beneath ye shade,
Upon a somer's daye,
There ben a faire Chicago maid
That greeting sore did saye:
I wonder where can Willie bee—
O waly, waly! woe is mee!
He fared him off on Aprille 4,And now 'tis August 2,I stood upon ye slimy shooreAnd swere me to be trewe;I sawe yt schippe bear out to sea—O waly, waly! woe is mee!
He fared him off on Aprille 4,
And now 'tis August 2,
I stood upon ye slimy shoore
And swere me to be trewe;
I sawe yt schippe bear out to sea—
O waly, waly! woe is mee!
"Ye schippe she ben as braw an hulkAs ever clave ye tides,And in her hold she bore a bulkOf new-mown pelts and hides—Pelts ben they all of high degree—O waly, waly! woe is mee!
"Ye schippe she ben as braw an hulk
As ever clave ye tides,
And in her hold she bore a bulk
Of new-mown pelts and hides—
Pelts ben they all of high degree—
O waly, waly! woe is mee!
"Ye schippes yt saile untill ye towneFfor mee no plaisaunce hath,Syn most of them ben loded downWith schingle, slabs and lath;That ither schipp—say, where is shee?O waly, waly! woe is mee!
"Ye schippes yt saile untill ye towne
Ffor mee no plaisaunce hath,
Syn most of them ben loded down
With schingle, slabs and lath;
That ither schipp—say, where is shee?
O waly, waly! woe is mee!
"Ye Mary Jane ben lode with logs,Ye Fairy Belle with beer—Ye Mackinack ben Ffull of hoggsAnd ither carnal cheer;But nony pelt nor hide I see—O waly, waly! woe is mee!
"Ye Mary Jane ben lode with logs,
Ye Fairy Belle with beer—
Ye Mackinack ben Ffull of hoggs
And ither carnal cheer;
But nony pelt nor hide I see—
O waly, waly! woe is mee!
"And ither schippes bring salt and ore,And some bring hams and sides,And some bring garden truck gillore—But none brings pelt and hides!Where can my Willie's schooner be—O waly, waly! woe is mee!"
"And ither schippes bring salt and ore,
And some bring hams and sides,
And some bring garden truck gillore—
But none brings pelt and hides!
Where can my Willie's schooner be—
O waly, waly! woe is mee!"
So wailed ye faire Chicago maideUpon ye shady shore,And swounded oft whiles yt she prayedHer loon to come oncet more,And crying, "Waly, woe is mee,"That maiden's harte did brast in three.
So wailed ye faire Chicago maide
Upon ye shady shore,
And swounded oft whiles yt she prayed
Her loon to come oncet more,
And crying, "Waly, woe is mee,"
That maiden's harte did brast in three.
The second half of "The Shadwell Folio," printed November 1st, 1888, besides being memorable for the first publication of his well-known "Ailsie, My Bairn," and the exquisite "Old English Lullaby," contained "a homely little ballad," as Field described it, "which reminds one somewhat of 'Winfreda,' and which in the volume before us is entitled 'A Valentine.'"
The "Winfreda" here referred to is one of the poems upon which Field exhausted his ingenuity in composing with the verbal phraseology of different periods of archaic English. The version which appears in his "Songs and Other Verse" is his first attempt at versification "in pure Anglo-Saxon," as he says in a note to one of the manuscript copies. Field intended to render this finally into "current English," but, so far as I know, he never got to it.
The publication of numerous poems and tales in the Daily News during the years 1888 and 1889, together with those printed in America, culminating in "The Golden Week," in July of the latter year, was but the prelude to the issue of his two "Little Books," according to a unique plan over which we spent much thought and consumed endless luncheons of coffee and apple pie. As I have intimated, Field was quite piqued over the cavalier reception of "Culture's Garland," and was determined that his next venture in book form should be between boards, a perfect specimen of book-making, and restricted, as far as his judgment could decide, to the best in various styles which he had written prior to the date of publication. He did not wish to entrust this to any publisher, and finally hit upon the idea of publishing privately, by subscription, which was carried out.
The circular, which was prepared and mailed to a selected list of my friends, as well as his, will best explain the rather unusual method of this venture:
PRIVATE CIRCULARCHICAGO, February 23d, 1889.Dear Sir:—It is proposed to issue privately, and as soon as possible, a limited edition of my work in verse and in prose. Negotiations for the publication of two volumes are now in progress with the University Press at Cambridge.1. It is proposed to print one volume (200 pages) of my best verse, and one volume (300 pages) of tales and sketches. These books will be printed upon heavy uncut paper and in the best style known to the University printer.2. The edition will be limited to 200 sets (each set of two volumes), and none will be put upon sale.3. It is proposed to pay for the publication by subscriptions. One hundred (100) shares are offered to my personal friends at ten dollars a share, each subscriber to receive two (2) sets of the books.If you wish to subscribe to this enterprise, please fill out the accompanying blank (next page) and send it before March 25th, with money-order, draft, or check, to Mr. Slason Thompson, editor of "America," who has consented to act as custodian of the funds necessary to the accomplishment of the purpose specified.Very sincerely yours,EUGENE FIELD.
PRIVATE CIRCULAR
CHICAGO, February 23d, 1889.
Dear Sir:—It is proposed to issue privately, and as soon as possible, a limited edition of my work in verse and in prose. Negotiations for the publication of two volumes are now in progress with the University Press at Cambridge.
1. It is proposed to print one volume (200 pages) of my best verse, and one volume (300 pages) of tales and sketches. These books will be printed upon heavy uncut paper and in the best style known to the University printer.
2. The edition will be limited to 200 sets (each set of two volumes), and none will be put upon sale.
3. It is proposed to pay for the publication by subscriptions. One hundred (100) shares are offered to my personal friends at ten dollars a share, each subscriber to receive two (2) sets of the books.
If you wish to subscribe to this enterprise, please fill out the accompanying blank (next page) and send it before March 25th, with money-order, draft, or check, to Mr. Slason Thompson, editor of "America," who has consented to act as custodian of the funds necessary to the accomplishment of the purpose specified.
Very sincerely yours,
EUGENE FIELD.
The accompanying blank addressed to me read:
Find enclosed ________ for ________ ($ ________ ) representing my subscription for ________ share in the two-volume publication of Eugene Field's original work.________________________ P.O. Address.
Find enclosed ________ for ________ ($ ________ ) representing my subscription for ________ share in the two-volume publication of Eugene Field's original work.
________________________ P.O. Address.
If Field had any doubts as to the estimation in which he was held by his friends, they were dispelled by the ready response to this appeal, while the generous words accompanying many of the orders were well calculated to warm the cockles of a colder heart than beat within the breast of "The Good Knightsans peur et sans monnaie." Many persons to whom circulars had not been sent heard of the proposed publication and wrote asking to be allowed to subscribe. The largest single subscription was for five shares. There were three for two shares, and all the rest were for one share each, many echoed the "Certainly! and glad of the chance," which was Stuart Robson's response. F.J.V. Skiff, Field's old associate on the Denver Tribune, added a postscript to his order, saying, "And wish I could take it all," while Victor F. Lawson, in a personal note to me accompanying his order, wrote, "If you run short on this scheme I shall be glad to increase my subscription whenever advised that it is needed." This spirit pervaded the replies to our circular and gave Field keener pleasure than he ever experienced through the publication of any of his other books.
Chicago, as was to be expected, took a majority of the shares; Denver came next, and then Kansas City. Comparatively few shares were taken in the East, for Field's fame had scarcely yet penetrated that region. But the names of Charles A. Dana, of Whitelaw Reid, and of Field's "Cousin Kate" were early among the subscribers. His friends among the stage folk responded numerously, and so did journalists and railway men. There were only some half dozen bibliomaniacs on the list, for Field had not then become the poet, torment, and idol of the devotees of rare and eccentric editions. To remind them of the unusual opportunity they missed, let me recall the negotiations for the making of this originalédition de luxe, which was not published for profit, but as an example of the excellence of simplicity and clearness in printing. From the start Field insisted that everything about the "Little Books" should be American, and the best procurable of their kind. The letters from John Wilson & Son show the progress of the negotiations for the printing of the two books, which were carried on in full assurance that there would be no failure of funds to carry out the enterprise. I quote their first reply to my request for an estimate on the work:
CAMBRIDGE, MASS., February 5, 1889.SLASON THOMPSON, ESQ.,Dear Sir:—In your request for a rough estimate of two volumes of 200 pages each, on paper 5 x 8 and printed page 2½ x 4½ you forgot to state the number of copies desired and the size of the type. We enclose two samples of paper that we can find. We have doubts about finding enough of the 5 x 8, but think we can that of the 5 x 7½. We prefer the former. If the edition is small—say 100 or 150—we can, we think, scrape up enough of the 5 x 8. The size of your page could not, we think, be improved on. We also enclose samples of long primer, bourgeois and brevier sizes of type. [Here followed a detailed estimate on 250 copies of bourgeois type of $668.70 for the two volumes.]We should be most happy to execute the work. Hoping to hear from you again,We are respectfully yours,JOHN WILSON & SON.
CAMBRIDGE, MASS., February 5, 1889.
SLASON THOMPSON, ESQ.,
Dear Sir:—In your request for a rough estimate of two volumes of 200 pages each, on paper 5 x 8 and printed page 2½ x 4½ you forgot to state the number of copies desired and the size of the type. We enclose two samples of paper that we can find. We have doubts about finding enough of the 5 x 8, but think we can that of the 5 x 7½. We prefer the former. If the edition is small—say 100 or 150—we can, we think, scrape up enough of the 5 x 8. The size of your page could not, we think, be improved on. We also enclose samples of long primer, bourgeois and brevier sizes of type. [Here followed a detailed estimate on 250 copies of bourgeois type of $668.70 for the two volumes.]
We should be most happy to execute the work. Hoping to hear from you again,
We are respectfully yours,
JOHN WILSON & SON.
As soon as we had arrived at a clearer idea of our desires, and also of our means, I again communicated with Messrs. Wilson & Son, and received the following reply:
CAMBRIDGE, April 4th, 1889.Dear Sir:—After much delay we have succeeded in finding a paper manufacturer in Massachusetts (the only one in America) who has just commenced making a paper similar to that used in "Riley's Old-Fashioned Roses" (printed on English hand-made paper which I had sent them). To-morrow we shall send you a specimen (printed), also a specimen of another paper which we used some time ago on anédition de luxeof "Memorials of Canterbury" and of Westminster Abbey for Randolph & Co., of New York. No. 1 is a hand-made paper 16 x 20/28, at 60c. a lb.; No. 2, a machine made 20 x 22/60 at 20c. a lb.ESTIMATE No. 1.For comp. and electro (say 500 pages in the two vols.) about$400.00For 8 boxes for plates, 75 cts.6.00For 250 copies presswork (2 vols.), 66 forms, $1.5099.00For Paper, 16 x 20/28, 20 reams, $16.80336.00For Binding 250 copies, 500 (2 vols.) 25c. Parchment back and corners125.00For Dies, say10.00$976.00Alterations from copy, 50 cts. an hour. (The estimate on No. 2 paper was $727.00.)We return "Riley." Both of these papers have the rough, or deckle, edge.We are anxious to make this book in thebest style, and of American materials if possible.Respectfully yours,JOHN WILSON & SON.
CAMBRIDGE, April 4th, 1889.
Dear Sir:—After much delay we have succeeded in finding a paper manufacturer in Massachusetts (the only one in America) who has just commenced making a paper similar to that used in "Riley's Old-Fashioned Roses" (printed on English hand-made paper which I had sent them). To-morrow we shall send you a specimen (printed), also a specimen of another paper which we used some time ago on anédition de luxeof "Memorials of Canterbury" and of Westminster Abbey for Randolph & Co., of New York. No. 1 is a hand-made paper 16 x 20/28, at 60c. a lb.; No. 2, a machine made 20 x 22/60 at 20c. a lb.
ESTIMATE No. 1.
Alterations from copy, 50 cts. an hour. (The estimate on No. 2 paper was $727.00.)
We return "Riley." Both of these papers have the rough, or deckle, edge.
We are anxious to make this book in thebest style, and of American materials if possible.
Respectfully yours,
JOHN WILSON & SON.
Three things in estimate No. 1 caught Field's fancy—yea, four; the paper was to be hand made, deckle edge, of American manufacture, but, above all, sixty cents a pound. As a contrast to the stiff bleached Manila of "Culture's Garland," dear at a cent a pound, this sixty cents a pound decided Field in favor of No. 1, though we had to economize on everything else to get the job done within the $1,100 we had in bank before we gave the order. The No. 2, having a softer surface, would have given us a better printed page, and its cost would have enabled us to embellish the edition with a steel-plate engraving of Field, as had been our intention, but the thought of using the most expensive American paper procurable for his "Little Books" outweighed every other consideration, and we forwarded the copy of the two volumes to John Wilson & Son, with orders to go ahead and push publication.
It was well into the middle of the fall when I received the following note from the printers, showing that the work had been completed:
University Press,CAMBRIDGE, MASS., October 19th, 1889.SLASON THOMPSON, ESQ.DEAR SIR: Herewith please find our bill for printing and bindingProfitable TalesandWestern Verse.We shall send the two copies of each volume (unnumbered) to secure the copyright, and when the certificate is received, will send it to you. These copies are over and above the 250 copies sent to you.Regretting the delay incident to the bringing out of two such volumes, and hoping that the author and his friends may be gratified and pleased with their mechanical execution, we are,Respectfully yours,JOHN WILSON & SON.
University Press,CAMBRIDGE, MASS., October 19th, 1889.
SLASON THOMPSON, ESQ.
DEAR SIR: Herewith please find our bill for printing and bindingProfitable TalesandWestern Verse.
We shall send the two copies of each volume (unnumbered) to secure the copyright, and when the certificate is received, will send it to you. These copies are over and above the 250 copies sent to you.
Regretting the delay incident to the bringing out of two such volumes, and hoping that the author and his friends may be gratified and pleased with their mechanical execution, we are,
Respectfully yours,
JOHN WILSON & SON.
It is needless to say that both the author and his friends were gratified and pleased with the mechanical execution of the "Little Books," while Field's admirers have never wearied in their admiration of their contents. Every cent of the fund subscribed for these books went to pay for their printing; and as Field started for Europe before they were received from Cambridge, the task of numbering them, as well as the cost of forwarding them to subscribers, fell to my lot.
These two books contained not only the best of what Field had written up to that time, but their contents were selected with such care that they continue to represent the best he ever wrote. Much that he rejected at that time went to make up subsequent volumes of his works. The popular editions from the subscription plates of "A Little Book of Western Verse" and "A Little Book of Profitable Tales" had a phenomenal sale, and made a handsome return in royalties to him who sent them forth with the words:
"Go, little book; and if any one would speak thee ill, let him bethink him that thou art the child of one who loves thee well."
CHAPTER VI
HIS SECOND VISIT TO EUROPE
From 1889 Field's life was one long struggle with dyspepsia, an inherited weakness which he persisted in aggravating by indulgence in those twin enemies of health—pastry and reading in bed. During our intimate association I had exercised a wholesome restraint on his pie habit and reduced his hours of reading in bed to a minimum. As the reader may remember, our pact concerned eating and walking. When we ate, we talked, and while we walked, Field could not lie in bed browsing amid his favorite books, burning illuminating gas and the candle of life at the same time. So long as his study of life was pursued among men he retained his health. As soon as he began to retire more and more to the companionship of books and from the daily activities and associations of the newspaper office his assimilation of food failed to nourish his body as it did his brain. The buoyancy went out of his step, but never out of his mind and heart.
As intimated in his letter to Mr. Gray, the publisher of the Daily News grew so solicitous over Field's health that he proposed a three months' European vacation, with pay, whenever he chose to take it. At first it was not Field's intention to avail himself of this generous offer until winter. But when his "Little Books" were safely under way he changed his mind and decided to start as soon as he could arrange his household affairs. In a letter to his friend Cowen, then in London, under date of June 11th, 1889, Field wrote:
Trotty is delighted with the illustrated paper, and she is going to write you a letter, I think. Melvin is on the Indiana farm again this summer, and Pinny is visiting his Aunt Etta [Mrs. Roswell Field] in Kansas City. The rest of us are boarding with Mr. and Mrs. Reed, and the house is full of friends. We like our quarters very much, but shall give them up on the first of November, as Julia, Trotty, and I will go to Europe in December. The present plan is to go first to London, where I wish to spend most of my time. We shall want to put Trotty in a school near Paris, and her mother will have to make the tour of Italy. Mary French (who reared me) will be with us, and she will go with Julia on the Italian circuit. As for me, I want to spend most of my time in England, with two weeks in Paris and a few days in Holland. Wouldn't it be wise for me to live in one of the suburbs of London? I want to get cheap but desirable quarters—a pleasant place, not fashionable, andnot too far from the old-book shops. My intention is to be absent three months, but I may deem it wise to stay six. Julia and Trotty can stay as long as they please. I should like to have Trotty learn French.Matters and things here in the office peg along about as usual—yes, just the same. The new building in the alley will be ready for occupancy by the first of September, but I suspect it will not be much of an improvement upon the present quarters. Dr. Reilly is the same old 2 x 4. He got $250.00 for extra work the other day, and we have been tolerably prosperous ever since. [Here Field branched off into personal gossip about pretty nearly every one of their mutual friends in Denver and Chicago, having something to say about no less than nineteen persons in fourteen lines of his diamond chirography.] It is nearly time for Stone [who had sold out his interest in the Daily News to Mr. Lawson] to reach Paris. I wish you'd tell him that I propose to ∗¥!&§[Note]him at billiards under the shadow of St. Paul's in London next Christmas time. Dear boy, I am overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you so soon. We speak of you so often, and always affectionately. You may look for a package from me about the 1st of August; I shall send it to the care of the Herald office in Paris. I have dedicated to you what I regard as my tenderest bit of western dialect verse, and I will send you a copy of the paper when it appears. Meanwhile I enclose a little bit, which you may fancy. God bless you.
Trotty is delighted with the illustrated paper, and she is going to write you a letter, I think. Melvin is on the Indiana farm again this summer, and Pinny is visiting his Aunt Etta [Mrs. Roswell Field] in Kansas City. The rest of us are boarding with Mr. and Mrs. Reed, and the house is full of friends. We like our quarters very much, but shall give them up on the first of November, as Julia, Trotty, and I will go to Europe in December. The present plan is to go first to London, where I wish to spend most of my time. We shall want to put Trotty in a school near Paris, and her mother will have to make the tour of Italy. Mary French (who reared me) will be with us, and she will go with Julia on the Italian circuit. As for me, I want to spend most of my time in England, with two weeks in Paris and a few days in Holland. Wouldn't it be wise for me to live in one of the suburbs of London? I want to get cheap but desirable quarters—a pleasant place, not fashionable, andnot too far from the old-book shops. My intention is to be absent three months, but I may deem it wise to stay six. Julia and Trotty can stay as long as they please. I should like to have Trotty learn French.
Matters and things here in the office peg along about as usual—yes, just the same. The new building in the alley will be ready for occupancy by the first of September, but I suspect it will not be much of an improvement upon the present quarters. Dr. Reilly is the same old 2 x 4. He got $250.00 for extra work the other day, and we have been tolerably prosperous ever since. [Here Field branched off into personal gossip about pretty nearly every one of their mutual friends in Denver and Chicago, having something to say about no less than nineteen persons in fourteen lines of his diamond chirography.] It is nearly time for Stone [who had sold out his interest in the Daily News to Mr. Lawson] to reach Paris. I wish you'd tell him that I propose to ∗¥!&§[Note]him at billiards under the shadow of St. Paul's in London next Christmas time. Dear boy, I am overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you so soon. We speak of you so often, and always affectionately. You may look for a package from me about the 1st of August; I shall send it to the care of the Herald office in Paris. I have dedicated to you what I regard as my tenderest bit of western dialect verse, and I will send you a copy of the paper when it appears. Meanwhile I enclose a little bit, which you may fancy. God bless you.