[Manchester—Tuesday, 27 August 1872]

Tuesday August 25 [sic]. Miss A. Whitney came Saturday & remained until Monday morning. Sunday Eve, we passed at Mrs Townes. Mrs Annis Wistar of Pa. had just arrived, a dramatic creature who tells and tells again at request with as much amiability as talent, her wonderful story of Father Donne the Irish Priest who performed the marriage ceremony for one of her servants. Mrs Wistar in spite of a lisp has a thoroughly clear enunciation. She never leaves a sentence unfinished nor suffers the imagination to complete any corner of her picture. She is exceedingly lively and witty and Miss Whitney whose mind is quite different and altogether introverted—busied over her artistic conceptions, could not help a feeling of envy. The gift of narration, so rare in this country, has been carefully cultivated by Mrs Wistar and poor Miss Whitney could only wonder and admire. I could see her fine large eyes glow with pleasure and desire as she listened to her. Mrs Wistar told me an odd thing which shows her as an individual. She asked me how the testimonial to Mr. Emerson was progressing as her father was much interested and thought nothing he possessed too good to be given at once to Mr. Emerson nor indeed worthy of his acceptance and she would like to write him. I told her I believed the sum had reached $10,000 and had already been presented. This led her to say the friendship of her father for Mr. Emerson and indeed their mutual friendship as she truly believed it to be dated back to their youth when Mr. Emerson was first writing his poems and delighting over the illustrations her father would make of them. As she grew up she became dissatisfied at the relation between them. She thought Mr. Furness her father gave much more to Mr. Emerson in the way of friendship than Mr. Emerson ever appreciated. This went on until she became about 18 years of age when Mr. Emerson chanced to be visiting them in Pa. One day she was standing upon the stairs near the front door and Mr. Emerson was ready to go out and waiting there for her father who had withdrawn for a moment. Her heart was full & suddenly she turned upon Mr. Emerson and said “Mr Emerson I think you cannot know what a treasure you have in this friendship of my father. He loves you dearly and I fear you cannot appreciate what it is to have the love of such a man as my father.”

She says to this day she grows “pank” as the Scotchmen said all over at such presumption but she could not help it.

I asked what Mr. Emerson replied. He looked surprised she said and cast his eyes down and then said earnestly “that he knew and felt deeply how unworthy he was to enjoy the riches of such a friendship.”

This incident presented Mrs Wistar as well as Mr. Emerson under a keen light. They could never understand each other.

Miss Whitney and I talked long together. She is waiting, waiting patiently, after years of persistent work looking for the world’s dictum. Her family have given up looking for fame—she can never give up looking for money and fame as the world’s recognition of her work after such continued endeavor & sacrifice and I must say I believe that her worldly reward must yet come. She has a fine mind and is fresh and natural knowing little of the world.

Miss W. & J. went to town Monday morn. I had a long day devoted to rambling, writing and read Warton’s history of Literature, a glorious book.

Tuesday morning. Rainy and foggy. I joined dear J. upon his village trip which we ended by going to Mrs Towne’s again and sitting with Mrs Wistar and the pleasant family. Jamie talked delightfully about Rogers going faithfully over the grounds of his reminiscences in that direction. Mrs Wistar finding Mrs Kemble’s name suggested followed with admirable anecdotes of her. In talking of Mrs Sartoris, however, Jamie told that story of her dismay when she threw herself on the couch saying “My God! Edward says he is tired of hunting.”

Mrs Wistar says she is a woman of no principle whatever—this she getting from the nieces and the life of Mr. Sartoris is devoured by ennui. Once however they were visiting in the house when Madam Sartoris was discovered to be the subject of an internal disease which must subject her to the gravest of surgical operations. Her husband was so devoured by anxieties that for weeks or a week I do not wish to exaggerate the story he sat behind the hall door where he could hear the feet of every person who approached the house and thus prevent in season any touch of bell or knocker. When the young nieces saw this devotion they said, surely if our Aunt recovers there will be no more of that dreary life we have known hitherto for these two people. For six months things did indeed appear better but afterward they again relapsed into the old wretched life. In a “Week at a French Country House” Madame Sartoris herself is Ursula. Jacques—is Dessauer  and Olympe of course Mrs Kemble—though Mrs Wistar said it was a compounded character and the singer who went over to England and returned to sing in the church is Frederick Leighton—and the cold lover whose name I can’t recall is said indeed to be a lover of Mrs. Sartoris—though one would say there was much of Mr. Sartoris himself in the sketch.

Greville Sartoris a youth of 19 [sic] is said to be the most dissipated man in England.

Mrs Wistar’s description of a breakfast at the home of Mrs Kemble’s daughter Sarah Wistar with Miss Jenny Field soon after Mr. & Mrs Wistar were married when she turned the chocolate out of the window (because there was but one cup & Miss Field would not take it from Mr Wistar) and he disarmed his wife’s anger by throwing out the fried potatoes in exactly the same grand manner was a curious photograph. Also of Mrs Kemble affrighting the chambermaids by the tone of her voice and hearing them scuttle off in every direction.


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