1906 Edwin Manners Diary

Edwin Manners

His Book

January 1, 1906

Suum cuique.*

January 2, 1906 (loose article, June 20, 1906)

HASBROUCK ALUMNI ASSOCIATION NOW

The Organization Was Perfected Last Night and Officers Were Elected.

200 GRADUATES HAVE ENROLLED

The organization of the Alumni Association of Hasbrouck Institute was perfected last night, when the following temporary officers were made permanent: President, George F. Perkins, Jr., '91; vice-presidents, Louis Sherwood and Anna K. Koonz; recording secretary, Mary Alice Campbell; corresponding secretary, Miss McIntire; treasurer, Vreeland Tompkins; assistant treasurer, Stephen T. Hunt. The names of 200 graduates were enrolled in the Alumni Association.

Louis Sherwood, 82; Joseph A. Dear, '89, and Gertrude C. Hilton were named as a committee to draft a constitution and by-laws for the association. These additional members were put on the executive committee: Dr. George E. McLoughlin, Mrs. John T. Rowland, Jr., Dr. Harold Koonz, Louise Hieke, Martha Nordine, Arthur T. Dear, Gertrude Puster, Thomas E. Van Winkle, Helen H. Herr, James A. Bridges, Elizabeth T. Barnes, Dr. W. A. Durrie, William R. Barricklo and Spencer Weart.

This committee on meeting of the association and entertainments was named: Dr. Koonz, Wesley H. Negus, Miss Louise McNaughton, Mrs. John T. Rowland, Jr., Mrs. Marmaduke Tilden, William C. Sherwood, Isaac N. Quimby, J. Herbert Lippincott, Miss Clara Wilkinson and William R. Barricklo.

Addresses were made by Principal Charles C. Stimets, Miss Amelia B. Myers, superintendent of the girls' department; James T. Barnes, Percival Gordon, James W. Gopsill, Harold A. Koonz, Louis Sherwood. Albert B. Cornell, Herbert P. Blake, James B. Pond. A number of letters were received from graduates of Hasbrouck, from men and women who have made their mark in the world. One of the interesting letters received and read at last night's meeting was from Hamilton Wallis of Colchester, Conn. Mr. Wallis, who is a lawyer by profession, was the first graduate from the Hasbrouck Institute. In his letter to President Perkins of the Alumni Association he wrote:

"I very gladly enroll myself as a member of the Hasbrouck Institute Alumni Association. I value very highly the training I received at Hasbrouck and the friendships formed there.

"I suppose I am the oldest graduate, or rather the first graduate of our school, to go out of our then little wooden school house for college or business. I can claim to be the only member of the class of 1858. I, too, headed the procession of Hasbrouck to Yale, which was swelled in such great numbers. I send my hearty greetings to my fellow alumni, and they have my best wishes for the success of the association."

Other letters from those unable to attend were from J. Q. A. Williamson, ex-Senators William D. Edwards and William Brinkerhoff, Edward O. Coles, William Armstrong, Prof. Franklin D. R. Furman of Stevens Institute, Hoboken; Albert Caswell, superintendent of music in New York schools; Dr. H. S. Willard, Edwin Manners, Samuel A. Eddy and many others, altogether nearly one hundred in number.

The next meeting of the Hasbrouck Alumni Association will be held the first Friday evening in November.

January 13, 1906

Received this book today by mail.

What an erratic thing a journal is, and yet it makes its impression and characteristically for truth. A note is jotted down here, something more extended there, and, though a world is left unrecorded, an individual appeal is made, incomplete, but impressionistic. And that is much. Do not mind egotism of the right sort - that is what we were made to express, and little else matters or happens distinctly without it. It is what you say and how you say it that counts.

January 15, 1906

Appealed one tax bill and paid the others.

January 17, 1906

The winter has been remarkably open, with very little snow and but few days of freezing weather. It has thus favored building operations. The building in course of construction at 75 and 77 Newark Avenue, retarded in the start for various reasons, is now progressing finely. The side and rear walls are up to the roof, and the masons are at work on the front. The exterior is assuming definite shape.

January 18, 1906

Harold was with us last night and today. In the afternoon I went with him to see the automobile show in Madison Square Garden. There was a goodly crowd of people, and most of the cars were well represented. Auto mobile talk has some points of interest, but also certain limitations. For the most part, however, the auto mobile men and women have a smart look - something that healthy sport is apt to give. And all this stir and enthusiasm for a machine - what did it mean? It was the outcrop or manifestation of the time-force bringing about the perfection of this transforming mode of transit. How little do we realize our constant value and the useful purposes we serve, in the hands or influence of that Sphinx-like power that is back of us all!

January 20, 1906

Made to Donnelly and Phelan the third payment on account of their contract for masonry on the Newark Avenue building.

January 26, 1906

Who ever heard of a rhetorician or grammarian who wrote well, that is, with the spirit as well as the letter of the matter? Not one, from Quintilian down to Hugh Blair and Gould Brown. That is not to say they have no uses. They tend to keep school boys straight and some school girls; they kill off poor writers and show the good ones how and where judiciously to break through their rules and methods. The spirited author may be restive in harness and occasionally kick over the traces; but he usually finds, as he goes on, a steadiness in restraint, that he moves easier when under some measure of governance, and recognizes the ordered grace of it; he may even take kindly to the bit of verse, to keep himself within bounds, but is never a slave, always a freeman.

February 1, 1906

The only proper kind of criticism is kindly criticism of the proper kind!

February 2, 1906

What a saucy bright out look on life Jane Austen had, and she knew the comedy of it as few have known and took gaily her part in the play. Wise little philosopher, to be untroubled by passion or vexed questions, and know how to extract happiness from the simplest actor in the passing scene!

February 3, 1906

Dined with the Hudson Bar to-night at the Hotel Astor. Mr. Queen kindly asked me to sit at a round table before the dais. Around it were seated Mr. Vredenburgh, Mr. Man, Ex-Mayor Traphagen, Ex-Judge Collins, Mr. Colie, and Ex-Senator Rabe. The speaking was, for the most part, of the pleasant bantering sort. City Counsel Record struck a serio-radical note - an attempt at reform or change for the better or worse, but it lacked a seasoned sound. Mr. Colie replied in a sarcastic strain. Mr. Warren Dixon presided and I thought with ease. He wittily quoted a couplet from the poet Dryden in introducing Attorney-General McCarter, who is presumed to be one of Senator Dryden's henchmen. Mr. Wall's remarks, if less lifelike than the others, were better prepared, more finished. After the dinner I enjoyed some late entertainments that were going on.

February 7, 1906

Contracted with Louis Fort for the installation of electric wires and apparatus at 75 and 77 Newark Avenue.

Leased the second and third storeys of 77, for a photographic gallery and studio, to Nathan H. Chasis, for a term of five years, beginning May first next.

February 8, 1906

A girl I like I met to-night,
Her heart I gladly felt I knew:
She lookt so sweet, she lookt so white -
But sighed and said that she was blue.

February 9, 1906

Paid appealed tax bill, a reasonable reduction having been made.

February 10, 1906

Attended a masque and civic ball to-night and had a bizarre time.

February 15, 1906

There is a young man I know, with whom I occasionally have dealings. His experience is naturally brief and his knowledge and training are of the most limited character, yet marked in part by some haphazard shrewdness, gained apparently by knocking about and being knocked in a rude world. This is an asset of value to a degree, but indicates hard unlovely lines. At times smooth, pleasant surfaces show; yet withal he is arrogant without excuse, opinionated, and lays down the law in a bare unabashed fashion; while I mildly deprecate, or hedge courteously with subtleties, or simply wonder at the crudeness, the presumption, the effrontery of youth and ignorance. He will never learn much, because he is not docile and resists too much. And sometimes he regards me, I fancy, as one who scarcely knew his ABC's. How absolute and literate the illiterate can sometimes be! In a sense it is true that most of us fail to get much beyond the alphabet of life; but then there are degrees, and perhaps those who are least self-willed, those who are simple and gentle and open-minded catch most of the light that is coming this way.

February 23, 1906

Mr. Chasis, the lessee, surrendered the lease of the upper floors of No. 77 Newark Avenue and the same was rescinded by mutual consent of the parties thereto.

February 26, 1906

Yes, I have had a few personal critics, some imaginary and some of them quite real. The former, somehow, seem to persist - an impish crew; the latter - the most of them - are dead. Poor souls! they thought complacently that they knew themselves and life: they would teach me how to live. Perhaps they knew, perhaps they were right - who knows? I am sure, I shall not say. Only they are dead. Alas! poor souls, they are dead! Is this the nemesis or irony of fate? But the dead are wise: they answer not. And yet, while I know the pride, the triumph of the living over the silent dead, I do not upbraid, I do not mock: it would be a shortsighted victory, doomed to speedy defeat. I simply look on in pity, I commiserate. - But oh! what am I saying: what do I do. Whence comes this sadness, this strange feeling. Did I love darkness more than light? O the blessed light of revelation! Yet 'tis hard to bear. I misgive. Oh, the pathos, the tragedy of understanding, of misunderstanding. Oh, how could I have so mistaken them - they were not enemies - they were friends; but their lips are sealed, their lips are dust, and I - I too am silent.

March 1, 1906

Rented the photographic gallery and studio at no. 77 Newark Avenue to Herman and Hurdus, lease to be executed March 6th.

March 2, 1906

Made third payment to Charles K. Long, on contract for carpentry, at 75 and 77 Newark Avenue.

March 3, 1906

Made fourth payment to Donnelly + Phelan, on contract for masonry on the Newark Avenue building.

March 6, 1906

This is a beautiful birthday. The sun is shining splendidly and goldens all it looks upon: it gladdens my heart.

Herman and Hurdus called and executed the lease of the photographic gallery, as agreed.

My sister Virginia Beekman is here for the afternoon. In the evening Mrs. Dodgson (Anne Van Cleef), of Chicago, a daughter of the late Rev. Paul Van Cleef, of this city, pleasantly looked in on us for a passing visit.

March 8, 1906

We had at luncheon to-day Mrs. Oliver Hurd, of Watkins, N. Y., and Mrs. Spicer, of Milwaukee, the former's daughter. Another daughter, Jane, whose stage sur-name is Van Der Zee - a family name, however, was kept away by a rehearsal at the Metropolitan Opera House. She sings in grand opera.

March 9, 1906

Yesterday I transferred in blank some shares of the New Jersey Title and Abstract Company and left them with Counsellor Drayton. As soon as some preliminaries are arranged, he is to send me a cheque for the stipulated price.

March 12, 1906

Sunday afternoon, on Twenty-third Street, I met Mr. A. D. Riley, making Jerseyward, but he turned and went with me up to Broadway, where we had something and a convenient chat at the Bartholdi. Then we proceeded up the way to Thirty-fourth Street and dined at the Princeton Club. After rummaging about the library awhile, we broke away for the Waldorf-Astoria, where we indulged in refreshing drinks and fragrant cigars; meanwhile sweet music sifted through the rooms and corridors.

March 15, 1906

Marie and I had accepted and were going to a reception given this evening by the Watsons of Bentley Avenue; but it snows and hails and blows, and looks so much like a repetition of the great March blizzard of 1888, that we conclude to sit in our easy chairs and read, with that gratified feeling of security from the storm, while old Boreas rears down the chimneys: he can come so near but no further tonight.

We are seated in the library, around the book-laden table, beneath the shaded lamp - a patch of light and life amid the gloaming shadows. We are discussing some literary style or story. I have appointed Marie a committee of one to select books from the Public Library - and a few of these are at hand - for our edification, our distinguishment and mirth. Blanche is our sanitary bureau, to enforce the health rules and hunt out any stray microbes that may peradventure find a lodgment. And Helen, dignified Helen, who is so devoted to the church - she is to set the saintly example, with some misgivings and a deal of human nature underneath. And I, perched on my little philosopher's stool, and enigmatic, form part of the magic circle, our microcosm, our home.

March 19, 1906

Another snow storm is here. It has continued all day with much persistency and force. The weather clerk is evidently making up in March what was missed in winter.

I remained home most of the day reading and posting books.

March 21, 1906

Executed a lease with Adolph Fabry, for the floor over store, at 77 Newark Avenue. He is to open a pool and billiard parlor there, May first.

March 22, 1906

O the thoughts, the dreams, that constantly troop by, uncaught in my spider web, unimprisoned and shaped in living words! And they come not again - ah, they come not again in like form and beauty, or if they return, and seldom they do - then, ah then, they stalk by in appearance so changed from the likeness they once wore. Yes, for better or worse, so do they, so do we change, and what is momently lost, humanly speaking, in that particular identity, is lost forever!

March 24, 1906

Received of Albert I. Drayton, Esq., his cheque, in payment of certain shares of the capital stock of the New-Jersey Title and Abstract Company, recently deposited with him.

March 27, 1906

It is a rainy day. I made some rent collections, however, and inspected some building repairs and operations. The afternoon was spent, for the most part, in writing letters - paying off correspondence debts. Among them I sent what might be called a family epistle to Mrs. J. H. Manners, of Georgetown, Delaware. Mrs. M. is the wife of my cousin J. Hartwell Manners.

March 29, 1906

This little essay by me about the Brontes appeared in the Times Review of March 31, 1906: (clipped article follows:) The Bronte Sisters. New York Times Saturday Review of Books:

There is an interest peculiarly fascinating about the Brontes. It recurred to me the other day in taking up a book concerning them. It is not my purpose here to discuss their works. There are those who deprecate their lack of art and somewhat else; others prize them as a touchstone of literary excellence. It may justly be said that they form an unexpected, a strange and significant tour de force. But the interest mentioned is heightened, I fancy, by a certain morbidity and by the tragic, hopeless struggle experienced by every one of the family against compelling facts. And herein, and considering the conditions, I wish to dissent from current estimates and animadversions. I believe Anne should be placed a little higher up, and a more creditable niche given to Branwell.

The wide and deserved attention paid to Charlotte has shadowed the others to a degree; yet I have always admired Emily, the more perhaps because, while less expansive and productive than her sister, she strikes me as being the deeper, the mysterious and high-strung witch of that moorland household. Moreover, and I desire to emphasize this, she adhered loyally, without complaining, to her brother Branwell through all his failings, with a kind of comprehensive human sympathy and reticence that in itself betokens real greatness. And her devotion is reflected in the superiority of her work.

There is something unfair and undigested about hard and fast moral or critical judgments. How little do we know ourselves, much less do we know our fellows; what equipment, natural or acquired, they have for the task of life, what depths they peer into, what difficulties they have to master and overcome, what hills or mountains or heavens to climb! Obviously, marked differences characterize individuals and work out variously. They must necessarily at times run counter to ordinary standards of respectability and success. I confess that I am often absorbed in the careers of those whom the coarse world regards as failures, for they serve relatively important purposes, however subtle and undiscerned. Indignation seldom does much good; it usually leaves behind it a feeling of false notes. Let us have the true notes - the story unvarnished; if it will out; but look on the result dispassionately, consider without prejudice or short-sightedness and graciously report or be silent. Condemn nothing unless you are sure you have the divine vision. And I do not see so much danger in accepting when God accepts.

Emily Bronte and the Deity tolerated Branwell, and I am inclined to back Emily and the Deity against Charlotte, with her almost commonplace moral preachments; against Augustine Birrell, who captiously has "no use for this young man," and Clement K. Shorter, with his conventional denunciation of the brother and weakness for the sisters three. They are all entertaining, admirable critics, only I prefer not to fulminate over the sphinxlike face of man. I prefer the way of Emily and the Deity.

E. M.
Jersey City, N. J., March 29, 1906.

April 4, 1906

Bought a beautiful bamboo cane at Knox's, somewhat for its feel and look, more for protection. Talk about the quondam necessity for side arms: a gentleman must carry a revolver or big stick! I mooned around the corridors of the Fifth Avenue awhile. As I was leaving the café, I almost fell into the arms of Mr. Henry V. Condict, of our town, who greeted me comically, but seriously. We understood. Allons*!
*

April 5, 1906

Gave Donnelly + Phelan a cheque for $1000, being the fifth payment on their contract for masonry at Nos. 75 and 77 Newark Avenue.

April 10, 1906

Again Vesuvius is in eruption, doing terrific damage. How that name appeals to my imagination and memories! Along with the current reports, which are interesting indeed, but marred by journalistic haste, I read the calm and well considered account of the younger Pliny of the Mount's first great historic awakening and destructive course. Again I felt with refreshing delight the charm of the classics. What clarity, what sanity, what masterful poise and completeness!

April 13, 1906

Fourth payment of $1000, made to Charles K. Long, carpenter-contractor. Insured plate glass, Newark Avenue building.

April 14, 1906

Paid E. H. Moore and Brother $250 on the contract for plumbing.

April 16, 1906

Dropped a business letter to Marie, who is now at the farm.

April 19, 1906

Interviewed a representative of the Commercial and Realty Company in regard to advertising the Newark Avenue stores, and collecting rents from the Grand Street houses - north side.

April 20, 1906

Sent word to Ex-Mayor Hoos, to remove the gutter running along the westerly wall of his building, at Nos. 71-73 Newark Avenue, and projecting over the adjoining property at Nos. 75 - 77, or so repair and reconstruct the same that it properly carries off the roof water, without detriment or damage to the latter property.

April 21, 1906

Ex-Mayor Hoos responded that he had ordered his mechanics to attend to the matter in question.

April 23, 1906

Return day of -

MaNners vs. Siegel,
" " Connaughton.

Judgment for plaintiff in each case.

April 26, 1906

Siegel removed and his apartments were at once rerented to another tenant.

Fabry surrendered his old lease, and a new one, covering the whole floor over the stores, at 75 and 77 Newark Avenue, and the top floor of No. 75 was executed with him and his partner Grossman.

April 27, 1906

Received of R.H. Daly, City-surveyor, survey-sketch of No. 107 Brunswick street. It is alleged that the building on this lot encroaches on the adjoining property to the north, and this survey was made to ascertain the facts.

April 28, 1906

Paid C.K Long $500 on account.

More graphic and definite pictures and reports of the recent great earthquake and fire at San Francisco are filling the Daily Press. It is perhaps the greatest catastrophe in the history of American cities. And the people are responding most generously to appeals for aid in behalf of the sufferers.

April 30, 1906

Authorized the Commercial and Realty Company to collect the rents from the tenants and property on the north side of Grand Street, beginning May first, at the rate of three per cent commission on the collections made. No other charges are to be allowed except by special agreement in writing.

May 1, 1906

A bright May-day.

May 4, 1906

Attended to-night Madam Cartier's reception at Westminster Hall, Manhattan. It proved to be a delightful occasion.

May 5, 1906

Paid Donnelly and Phelan $1000, being in payment of the final payment on the contract for masonry and of all extras (so settled), at 75 and 77 Newark Ave.

May 7, 1906

Paid Edwin H. Moore and Brother the sum of $380, in final payment of the plumbing and gas fitting contract and all extras to date, at 75 and 77 Newark Avenue.

May 8, 1906

Took a day off and relaxed my body, my soul, in leisure and adventurous sport, in order to ease, to remedy a sort of temperamental condition too keyed up, and taut. 'Tis a pleasant medicine and usually effective, if wisely administered.

May 10, 1906

This morning the carpenter-contractor handed me the keys of the new building, at 75 and 77 Newark Avenue and pronounced the work completed, so far as the contracts are concerned. It is a pleasure to bring a work like this to a conclusion and see the finished result.

May 11, 1906

Paid Andrew Lemon $170, in full payment of the consideration of the contract for painting at 75 and 77 Newark Avenue.

May 15, 1906

Paid Louis Fort $155, being the final payment on his contact for $290, for electric wires and apparatus, at Nos. 75 and 77 Newark Avenue.

May 16, 1906

Paid Charles K. Long $900, the residue of the contract considerations for the carpentry at the Newark Avenue building. This winds up all the regular contracts. A few extras remain to be settled.

May 18, 1906

Fiftieth Anniversary Banquet of the Hasbrouck Institute.

See post.

May 23, 1906

Paid by cheque mailed, Daniel F. Donovan, the sum of $245, for extra work and materials, in extending the photographic skylight, at 77 Newark Avenue.

This evening I was present at the funeral of Justice Jonathan Dixon. It was held at his son's house on Jersey Avenue. The Rev. Dr. Herr paid a fitting tribute. The late judge was somewhat stern on the bench, but genial in social life. He was a profound jurist and had a direct lawyer-like style of expression in speech and opinion.

May 24, 1906

We had to-night an entertaining call from Mr. Alfred K. Moe. He is the American Consul of Dublin, Ireland, and gave us a few points of interest on the green isle. Next month he becomes a benedict, marrying a young lady of Elizabeth.

May 28, 1906

A dark experience befell me in Manhattan Saturday night or in the little hours of Sunday morning. I feel too cut up about it to write, but must jot down a note of reminder and warning. Even unpleasant memories may have their value of reminder afterward or later on ((enamored)) in time. I presume, despite the prudent and cynical, one has the right to adventure and enjoy. It was midnight and had grown darker and stiller, and a gloom, uncanny and creeping, possessed the streets. It happened on Third avenue near Fifty-ninth Street. I way suddenly waylaid by an East Side gang - three at first appearing, six or seven others directly joining them. They seemed to come from hallways or recesses, springing out of the shadows - a criminal pack - and only my philosophy and composure, not the protection of the police, saved me from a tragic ending. It was tragic enough, and I could have slain someone at the time, but managed fortunately to keep my temper. Hesitant at first or wary for some reason or at my words of parley, they tried to provoke me to an encounter in order to give them a cue or some cause for attack and robbery. Singly these men were wretched cowards, but in league with the police and district leaders - I speak advisedly - and standing ten to one, they were doughtily brave! They closed in on me, but I knew how foolhardy it would be to swing at them with my cane, single-handed, even if I could have sufficiently disengaged myself for that. I was working my way gradually toward the Elevated Station, when I sleek young fellow grabbed my watch - the chain - left dangling - and got away. The others as a ruse urged me to follow. I noticed that the young robber was armed and after running a few paces turned to face me. I did, however, follow, but slowly, keeping in line of the gang behind for safely, and when I got sufficiently near dodged up the station steps. Just as I broke loose I was conscious of hands fumbling to rob my pockets, but without success. It was a strange sensation. Strange too and inconsistent seemed the delay and hesitancy on the part of such a criminal band. Why, when they had attempted so much and gone so far, they did not relieve me of my pocketbook and other valuables, and to that end knock me down or otherwise assault me, remains a mystery. I fancy there is some proportionate sense of values, of honor and personality even amongst thieves and robbers. I would fain believe too that their desperate calling is the result of hard conditions rather than the impulse of a depraved heart.

Summarily I should say and say it with emphasis, that if any man, citizen or stranger, can not traverse any street in any quarter of the city, at any time of the night or day, without being molested, then civilization breaks down at that point and can offer no excuse or defence that is not a crushing indictment of itself. Still, main and unusual, I have struck almost every nook and corner of the town and seldom met with a mishap or received a counter blow.

June 8, 1906

Mrs. Mc Gill, widow of the late Chancellor, and her sister, Mrs. Bryan, called this evening. They are charming and entertaining women. Their presence made an agreeable impression. There seemed with them a kind of depth and richness of perspective, yet everything was so simply becoming and in harmony. There was too an air of distinction and culture, distilled through an ancestry unobtruded but felt; the marked note or accent of personality which is so opposite and attractive. Yes, I have opened, as occasion served, the book of personality, and turning its quaint leaves read a little therein. I saw the drifting semblance, but it assumed temperamental attitudes, varying aspects and characters - it was a composite picture of the past. Ah, its perfume, its dear poetic atmosphere, its indefinite and mystic charm!

June 9, 1906

Settled with Charles K. Long, carpenter-contractor, for extra work as Nos. 75 and 77 Newark Avenue, less credits, the amount paid there for being $435.07.

June 14, 1906

Peace is something worth purchasing, if the price be not too steep.
Strenuous men advise fighting and compromise after the fight.
Almost everything is a compromise. A lawsuit is a compromise, however it may result: the same may be said of war.
The question is, whether to settle before or after a sea of trouble.
The fighting men show animus: they are wrong-headed and wrongly moved. The men of peace see more clearly, through the momentary confusion or complexity, to the appointed end; they control self and situation and calculate the consequence.
The main object of life is not destruction of any kind, but creation of whatever kind.

June 18, 1906

Last night, miss Julie M., Blanche and I attended a spiritualistic séance. It was a wee bit spooky and weird. Glancing around I saw that some in the audience had come to scoff, and while I did not exactly remain to pray, I gave the medium and the whole service most serious attention. It is not wise or in good taste or scientific, to set limits to knowledge or treat lightly that which is not avowedly trivial or amusing. Perhaps nothing is to be derided, certainly not that which, however delusive, concerns itself with the spirit and a better understanding of it.

June 19, 1906

In the case of Manners ads. Seddiz, terms of settlement were agreed upon this afternoon, papers to be executed Thursday, the twenty-first.

June 20, 1906

Drew and mailed to S. a general release to be signed and acknowledged by Seddiz, in final settlement.

June 21, 1906

Paid C. Fredrick Long, the architect, by cheque, one hundred and fifteen dollars, the residue of his account for commissions and plans, amounting to Five hundred and fifteen dollars, in the matter of the Newark Avenue building. This is the conducing payment on the work as planned, but an incidental ((file)) of incidental expenses is still kept up, but with lessening force. Indeed, a building, like education, is never completely built, but something that is always in the course of construction, relatively, by way of change, alternation or finishing touch. And time and weather do their part, and are continuous workers showing often wonderful artistic powers and effects.

June 25, 1906

Stanford White, the architect of artistic motive, while attending a show, this evening, on the roof of the Madison Square Garden building, which he designed, was murdered by Harry Kendall Thaw, a Pittsburgh millionaire. He shot his victim.

They were both interested in Evelyn Nesbit, the actress, whom Thaw subsequently married. Their respective relations with her brought about the tragedy. The mystery of the motive will doubtless reduce itself to hatred, jealousy and revenge. The case resembles in some respects that of Fisk, Stokes and Josie Mansfield, that occurred about a generation ago. I recall distinctly the stir it made. Probably there were cumulative causes in White's alleged sybaritic life, which threw him off his guard and at the same time helped to nerve the assassin's hand. Yet Thaw was not the man to stand on moral; he himself took chances; he adventured in his marriage, and had not served the community in any marked degree, as Stanford White had in his achievements, whether of architecture or adornment. But there is no sufficient excuse for murder. Somehow the Power behind the screen may be counted on to penalize the pleasurer who steps beyond the limits ordained, as well as others in whatever kind who do likewise. For the rest society and the law, however uncertain, should be relied upon to add their restraints, to give their protection and compensation, however inadequate. There is no other logical course to adopt or pursue in a civilized state. And it would be a pity after coming all this way to revert to private revenge.

June 27, 1906

Rented the store at No. 75 Newark Avenue to Winteroth and Company, for a piano sales and ware room. The leases were executed at their office in East Fourteenth Street, Manhattan, this afternoon.

July 4, 1906

The Fourth opened damp and showery, but with a pleasant breeze stirring and occasional gleams of sunshine. If the noise be lessened, the ardor of patriotism lives just as brightly. I should fancy more so. Almost any other way, one should think, would be a better way to celebrate than the making of many noises. But as a boy I enjoyed it quite as much as the young people do to-day, and as Lincoln said of the panorama, "For those who like that sort of thing, that is just about the sort of thing they like".

After noon it turned fair, and I trolleyed out to Newark and Olympic Park, where the German singing societies had just finished their contests. There was a jolly picnicing crowd. I noted on their happy faces the carnival spirit and in their social ways a traditionary, uncorrupted habit of joy, that is of large value as a civilizing force. There was a breath of cheer, conviviality, of music and nature love, of art aesthetic or unrefined. They danced only in a fairish manner: a few lithe, easy figures appeared, but the Germans for the most part are too lumpish and awkward for the finer movements and supple abandon of the dance. Huge men, broad featured, wearing dolls' hats, merrily, and the mirth in the eyes and around the mouths of the women who looked at them knowingly, approvingly, expressed the frank, unafraid humor, not piquant, but homely and diffused, of a whole race.

At the noon of night I wandered through the streets of Newark. There is for me a subtle charm about the night side of city life, and each city has its own peculiar atmosphere and special invitements. Standing at the corner of Broad and Market Streets, I felt the heartbeat of no mean town. The slightly clouded moon and civic lights only heightened the blue-grey symphony that held my senses enchanted. The shadows invested and caressed the flowing or static shapes with an elusive grace and mystery. A voice seemed, so winsome-like, to whisper, so softly, so dreamily, if this be life, how much more beautiful and creative is death!

July 14, 1906

Paid William H. Peckham, Registrar, the annual water-rates May 1, 1906, to May 1, 1907, $528.75.

Took a run down to that veritable playground of the country, Coney Island, and found my spirit possessed and renewed by the ocean breezes, the life, color, variety and swarming crowds of people.

July 16, 1906

Settled with the Water Registrar some back water-rents, amounting to $71.46.

Looked over the houses and directed several items of betterment and repair.

July 19, 1906

South Beach claimed me this evening((.)) I looked on at an Kiralfy's "Carnival of Venice", an attractive spectacle, and sampled several of the catches of "Happyland". Roller skating seems to be an ascending sport at present in town and seaside resort. I came up the bay on the ferryboat Bronx, running through a dense fog. Much anxiety was felt and expressed until we reached the South Ferry slip.

July 21, 1906

This afternoon and evening I fairly rollicked around Manhattan, enjoying various sorts of midsummer Manhattanings, don't you know?

July 30, 2004**************************************************************

Bergen Point drew me this afternoon to its waterside. I watched for a while some wanton little boys and girls disport themselves in the water. It came so close to nature, it pleased me, even as the fresh salty air freshened me. I was half inclined to throw off my clothes and civilization and join the charming young savages in their play and happy condition.

August 2, 1906

It rains and rains and rains.

August 4, 1906

The old Duke of Rutland, Lord John Manners, died today.

The American and English branches of the Manners family have been separated for more than two centuries, yet I can trace similar characteristics in each, which indicate for me their indubitable oneness in original stock, if nothing else did, as so much else does, by way of record and tradition.

The late Duke was a Duke indeed, of vast estates, an extreme aristocrat, and conservative in politics. He held several positions of state importance, among them that of Postmaster General. He preferred the cognomen Manners to that of Rutland. In his youth he committed some verses, which, however absurd, have retained a certain literary and sentimental or romantic vitality. These are they:

"Let wealth and commerce, laws and learning die, But leave us still our nobility."

August 8, 1906

It was very warm, and I sailed down the bay to St. George and back again, just for the air and diversion.

August 10, 1906

He who creates human interest in and about his city, state or country has rendered thereto a noble and memorable service.

August 13, 1906

Sunday afternoon I went over the river and took a trolley car at the Brooklyn Bridge for Bergen Beach. Thence I boarded the "Sunshine", a small ferryboat, and after a brief spin though all sorts of water craft on Jamaica Bay, landed at the "Sunset Pavilion", Canarsie. Throngs of very ordinary looking people lined the shore fronts at both places. With a fine eye for women, I scarcely discovered more than one child and her mother who detained my attention above a few seconds. Carnarsie had a sinister aspect. I got on a Hamburg Avenue car and journeyed back, through a motley population over the Williamsburg Bridge, to Delancey Street, and thence home.

August 16, 1906

My cousin major Henry H. Ludlow, of the artillery branch of the service, and Mrs. Ludlow lunched with us and spent the afternoon and evening. We talked and talked and played and played at cards. I should like to say that we beat, but that might seem like bragging, so I won't tell!

August 17, 1906

Has he or she a beautiful spirit? Ah, that is the end and aim of all our institutions and toils, the production of a beautiful soul. If you have that, you have behaved well, you have succeeded; you are illuminated, gracious, happy, a flower that sheds perfume, a star that diffuses light; your every word and act arises out of an inner melody of the heart, a complete and mellowed life; you have come into your own, quietly perhaps, without trumpets, as in nature's way, but your very own, what you were meant for: you have felt the fitness and harmony of all else, and acquiesced in the universal will; you have touched Heaven and found your place therein - how sweet, how becoming and seasoned, how divine, a beautiful spirit is!

August 23, 1906

As I passed by Greenwood Cemetery this afternoon on my way to the shore, I observed how the attention of many, voluntarily or by nod and gesture, was drawn to this hallowed and notable place. Normal healthy natures immersed in the affairs of the moment seldom reflect on the final passage. The scholar, the poet and the invalid find the grave a porch for meditation. Yet, apart from sentiment, which scarcely entered in this case save as a distant note, it takes a good nerve and stomach to bear the grewsome suggestions of these narrow cells, to be curious about their dark secrets and perceive the uncanny doings and fingers of Chemist Death as he resolves his prey in this wide-spread laboratory.

And, I thought, with all generations that have come forth and gone back into the soil, what small originality appears in the common lot and the tribute of a stone. If this is the best we can do with and for the departed, it is all a very sorry business. One beautiful book about the dead would be worth more than all these mounds and monuments. A mere directory of the dead would serve for convenience, study and better memorial. And those long unlovely lines of stone, how pathetically undistinguished! From the moraine waves of death, I gladly turned to the refreshing waters of the bay.

September 6, 1906

O, I feel so happy! I have abolished the days of the week; I have done away with night and day and am living in pure time. I have cut or rubbed out the dividing lines of cities, states and countries, obliterated natural divisions, and live in pure space. I reject races - they are all one, and distinctions - they are all artificial, and know only essential humanity. I love men and women, and move as a free entity in pure being. O, I am so happy! I have opened my eyes wide and looked clearly, steadily at the core of life. This is to approximate the divine vision. Alas! it is only a glimpse: the bliss is momentary, and the poor spirit baffled of complete view and understanding sinks back into itself, sensitive and aware of its own limitations, of the pathos that inheres in the lack of supreme power. For this it is to reach a dizzy and perilous height, and once realized, the joy of attainment is marred, is chilled in the sublime silences and loneliness.

For the most part, it is best for humanity to struggle along the easier levels, the gentler slopes, a little purblind, a little confused, pleased with a few illusions or an occasional illuminating insight or ray of light, loving the color and distinctions apparent, not too curious of the divine secrets, grateful for what is vouchsafed, even interested in the diety of the hour, the thing at hand, and ever ready to help a fellow-traveller on the way.

September 11, 1906

It is a matter of will power and temperament, whether the divine or human element be kept uppermost. Perhaps an equilibrium of the two is best at this stage: at a later time or after death, the divine will seem less strange and come into its own rare atmosphere and sweet communions. Yet, if we only knew, the two, in the last analysis, are one, and the one, whether it show dark or light, is but a balance of proportions, a harmony of constituents, moving musically to an appointed end, and truly beautiful.

September 22, 1906

Senator Robert M. LaFollette, of Wisconsin, was in town tonight, and addressed a political gathering at Elk's Hall. He was indeed Western and breezy, lacking in reticence; he even took off his coat, actually and metaphorically. But I enjoyed his frank, easy manner: he became at times dramatic and had the eloquence of clear and simple statement. Some of his contentions may be of doubtful wisdom; but he spoke with conviction, and I am persuaded, that his general aim to rid the people of boss rule and restore to them direct representative government is a just one, in fact a noble and great cause. The situation is somewhat exaggerated, but there is need of this agitation; there is need of another emancipation proclamation, setting the people, all and indifferent, free from the shackles of bossism and corporate domination.

September 27, 1906

One with my notions of freedom, I fear, would find marriage an irksome condition. Yet now and again Cupid slyly casts a burning dart that wakes from abstract dreams my sleeping heart. But the contest has become unequal: it is now a failing fight. Alas! we win to lose.

October 4, 1906

Rented the store at No. 77 Newark Avenue to James Petroplos, for three years, at $125 a month. See lease. His purpose is to conduct an amusement parlor, called a Theatorium, mainly for the exhibition of moving pictures, which it would seem, are very popular. (In the diary near Thursday October 11, 1906 a letter and a poem as follows:) (On E. M. letterhead,)

March 4, 1906. Mr. Albert E. Sholl, For the International Library Bureau: Dear Sir: ---------

The series of "Classic Tales by Famous Authors" came to hand as represented, and I am much pleased with the beautiful make-up and character of the volumes. They have already become interesting and valued friends in my library. While in a compilation like this one naturally misses much that is cherished and representative, yet I deem this a particularly rich and noble gleaning from the fields laid under contribution. The books have bodies that are fair to look at and their souls are finer still.

Very truly yours,
Edwin Manners.

Nov., 1906. (poem on Edwin Manners' stationary)

Youth and Age

O the old, are so old,
And the young are so young,
Sage and the glib of tongue;
The supreme is not told.

And the great who could tell
The crossed drama of man,
The extreme and the plan,
Are lost in the ground swell.

The old drone out their story;
Youth strikes a false key,
Unmellowed by time and dree -
O for truth and true glory!

Yet warm is youth and bold:
It goes where the wind goes,
And stays where the snow snows:
'Tis not so with the old.

Their light burns low and still,
Their blood is slow and chill -
That is the way with the old,
Their house is dark and cold.

Youth has no time for tears:
Youth has its work to do,
Hard work and passion too:
Rest, rest comes with the years.

Ay, rest in the bleak cell. Love likes the rosy bed, Dreams and the poppyhead - Age has its heaven as well!

October 11, 1906

Sometimes I fancy or realize that I have added a little to the divertisement and poetry of cities, if I may not yet claim to have bestowed much "the gaiety of nations".

(Under entry for October 18, 1906 newspaper letter to editor, as follows) JERSEY CITY'S NAME A TITLE OF STRENGTH Editor of Evening Journal:

Occasionally I have heard, when Jersey City was the theme, a note of deprecation in regard to its name. Yet this must come from prejudice or unconsidered causes, for one does not have to go far to find weapons with which to defend it from any slight or attack. It has always seemed to me an excellent name, not only by reason of its historical bearing and relation, but because of its own distinguishing quality.

The late Mr. Winfield in his monograph on the "Founding of Jersey City" contended that it should have been called New Jersey City, following the example of New York City, but this I think would have been a serious mistake. The founders chose well, perhaps better than anyone knew. The appellation of New York is scarcely a model for imitation: the New gives a youngish, provincial effect and the York by itself has a short, jerky, insignificant sound. Newark, which was originally New Ark, has fortunately disguised the rawness of the New by joining its two parts, and in this respect affords a valuable pointer to the metropolis, which, if it may conveniently be designated Yorktown or Manhattan, can surely live down some of its youth and assume a respectable age by uniting its lonely members into a single compact word, Newyork.

Neither of these, however, can hold a candle to Jersey City, whose superiority is manifest. Indeed there are few better names in the list of cities anywhere. Some, it is true, are more euphonious, if that be altogether desirable; but, I take it, for a municipality, a title of strength and arresting power is preferable, and this is had in Jersey City. It has a convincing look. When you attempt to utter it you have something to grip and firmly possess. The teeth take hold of it; it fills the mouth and issues forth with the tang of the sea. It is of strong, enduring fibre and fine significance; it is the imperial city, the city of the great Caesar!

Edwin Manners.
October 16, 1906

October 25, 1906

If you would live life fully and ransack all its corners, you should live intensely, and in order to live intensely, you should get into the game and get there frankly, completely. Remember that life is an end in itself - beginning, middle and end, a beautiful consummation. You may thoughtfully speculate about the whence, why and whither, but do not let questionings and uncertainties effect you for unhappiness, when life is such a splendid certainly, such a glorious reality.

October 29, 1906

Sent a letter to V., enclosing cheque.

October 30, 1906

In a relatively wide sense I know the philosophies of being, the physician's recipe for living, the preacher's doctrine, the lawyer's rule of action, the social agreements and modus vivendi; but life, wonderful life, is so great, so much greater than any and all schemes for its capture, guidance and statement. It will make and have its own way against all systems of philosophy and science, of morals and ethics, against the codes of government, law and society, against putative civilization, which is but a tentative stage in the progress of the human race. Ay, at some point, however subtle, soon or late, or in the final test, they all break down before the entering wedge, the puissance and advancing pressure of life. In all these there is an attempt to waylay and imprison man, to enforce him to fit their procrustean bed and artificial conditions, and stay his evolution, instead of cleaning away the unnatural and evil obstructions or undergrowths, the customs, opinions and conventions, that interfere with the scope and play of his powers, so that he as a free agent may act unhampered his part, his idiosyncratic part, singly or as a corporate member, and fulfill without too much hindrance his destiny and ideals. Truth is not absolute, but relative; life is not static, but dynamic.

November 5, 1906

Sunday afternoon I went with Marie and Blanche to Arlington Cemetery, where father, mother and little Linda rest. The air was soft and caressing: the sun shot gold through the trees and over the lawns as the shadows lengthened. How in accord with nature all seemed. The associations were not trist((e))*. It was not so much a place of sad regrets, although visible separation has its sting, as an attractive park of repose, where were assembled so many life histories and natural results. The dead have all had their day in the light and shade and found a respite. They have had their own spudgy triumph, which the via doloroso* may have extended and glorified. Even the failures have served purposes and, to more inspired judgment, may be fair successes. Step not too smartly above them: some of them were very wise and knew an advantageous deal; perchance they wonder why we hesitate to join hands. Yet we do hesitate, humanly, while we find here a vantage-spot wherein to contemplate the sphinx.
*sorrowful
*

November 8, 1906

Strange it is that we are at such a pains to write, whether in verse or prose, in certain well-worn moulds, as the lyric, ode, novel, drama, deeming these essential: they are well; they are naturally evolved forms of human expression and may be diversified beyond limit. But why not the higher form of what is - occurring and evolving, the miracle that confronts? What is more quintessential than simple transparence informed with spiritual beauty? Why not look at life clearly, inquiringly, with unaccustomed but awakened eyes and translate its haps in harmony and fairly light? This is the deeper, comprehensive truth that never fails. Science has its uses and great ones: but does it satisfy your longing, the crux of the spirit? What answer does science make to your questioning? A manikin or articulated skeleton. But poesy weaves in its glamouring atmosphere the magic of form, the fascination of expression: it dwells not amid the roots and processes of creation, but accepts it in its final aspect as the work or result of the divine will: it presents and interprets man, the crown, the soul of life, amid his mysterious and beautiful environment. There is a relative finality and completeness in this that should be gratifying and a sufficient solution in itself. It is the present finishing touch, the period put by the Creator for the time being. It is a glorious end - 'tis the unfolding of art's and nature's masterpiece, rounded and replete, and it were unwise to be too curious about what will come next.

And yet this sum and peak of being should find its voice in marching words and flights of music.

November 15, 1906

Life is so delightful, so alluring; its wine is almost too strong; at times I am intoxicated with it. I want to stir about, to sport, to fly: I can not rest, I can scarcely settle to anything. And when I do, when I fold my wings and compose my soul, I am so pleased that I sit dreaming at my desk and purr: I look out of the window and long for the birds, and there is so much melody in my heart that the good muses are charmed and consent: then it is that I do fly, and in the upper spaces catch a few birds of fancy and imagination.

November 19, 1906

Scarcely any of our American poets sing out with full and unaffrighted note, with sustained, uplifting voice and harmony. They do not often follow on and on, with dulcet recurrences, yet continuing flow. The fire flickers out too soon; it does not warm and color.

Poe had a fascinating, haunting song, but it was fragile, frail-bodied, and soon broke off - a rare white spirit moaning musically in the dark and after a little while dying.

Sidney Lavier perhaps comes nearest with "profuse strains", but he is handicapped by his theory of verse and only occasionally achieves the effect of "unpremeditated art".

Walt Whitman is strongly built, of magnific mould, and seems to have struck the right direction - a hearty disenthralment in his large, wayward, rhapsodical gait, in his humanism and robust optimism only he failed, except in rare instances, to fuse his ideas or material, his temperamental impressions, into melody and fairy light.

Emerson I admire greatly: he is a serene soul, a kindly, unique inspirer, the most stimulating and encouraging of our writers; but he halts and fumbles in his metres, and speaks out eloquently only in patches and crystals. His language is not whole and robust; 'tis tenuous and disjoint, but has a cementing spirit, a pervading, a prevailing vitalility.

Perhaps I should mention Lowell, who is richly languaged; at times he rises to eloquent uplands; nevertheless, like most of the New England poets, he is too inveterately didactic or reflective and lacks individual distinction.

Whittier's lyricism is native and true in theme, though his notes are somewhat forced: Longfellow is scholarly and handles his measure with easy yet in no eminently artistic style and artistic skill, neither of these is markedly strong or original((:)) they are somehow pale and juiceless. Holmes has cleverness and trim verse: there is a little essential poetry here. Bryant is scarcely more than a bleak landscape, yet while he does not warm, he may strike the imagination with some elemental effects.

I should hark back to Frenean for a true germinal mood, albeit politically encumbered, for there was a shadowed flower, there a spectral light or gleam in the forest gloom - strange, Dantesque.

November 27, 1906

It seems to be so hard to realize democracy; it is plausible enough in theory, but in practice it encounters so many obstacles in the way of prejudice and philistinism*. And strange as it may seem, these inhere most obstinately in the common people for whose benefit democracy is presumably designed. Superior minds are the most open and free of cant*. All amelioration of the people at large must come from the better born and those of enlarged vision, and they will get small help from the shortsighted ones who walk in the valley.

*blind conventionalism
*hypocritical or ostentatious religious talk.

(Insert glued in page dated at the top, 1906)

November 26. 1906

Sunday afternoon, while out for a walk, on the East side of Central Park, I turned in to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There was only time for a brief survey of a corner before the museum closed for the day. What is striking in classical art is its measured beauty, its concrete completeness, the definitive clearness of its outlines, its almost mathematical precision. And yet, besides the innate wonder of the subject expressed, I should prefer to see somewhat more of the miracle and mystery of life suggested, shadowed forth or revealed. And there is somewhat more of this in Egyptian and Gothic achievements: witness or consider the sphinx and Notre Dame. Indeed, some inevidence, some illusion or strangeness may satisfy best, like the deeper effects of shadows, the poetic instinct and its recognition of the apparent insouciance, yet ordered depths and secrets of nature.

Yet it was somehow among the relics of Greek genius that I lingered. And all seemed so appropriately white, for brightness is the note of Greece. It was not that I was going back to a barbarous, to a dim or dark age, but really, though distant, far, through intervening mists, to a land and time of the goldenest sun, where abound the whitest of marble temples, with finest adornment, the purest of statuary and soul-inspired monuments, where shapely men and woman stand at gaze or a-dream amid graceful mulberry and plane trees, yet every object seen distinctly defined and shining in the most exquisite of atmospheres.

By chance I alighted on a recumbent figure of Apollo*. Nothing short of the one or t'other of these would serve or suit me for a personal comparison! The face and form had an illuminating attractiveness: they appear so nobly informed. I scrutinized the hands and feet and the toes - the toes were so very like those whose nails I had trimmed this morning. I felt an awesome nearness to this symbol or representative of the people who listened enraptured to the fateful plays of Sophocles. And my mind was set a-playing through the centuries and marveling at the strange force and persistency of the human type, the same peerless shape that from earliest times had stalked down the lengthening eras, doing, suffering, thinking it out, battling, never giving up - so many other species had tired of the game and become extinct, but ever conquering his environs, holding against all countervailing creatures the center of the stage and advancing gloriously. O matchless man, thy spirited energy is divine, divine the piercing, inextinguishable light of thy soul!
*or was it Adonis wounded by a boar? - so like one of fine feelings hurt by a boor.(E. M.)

November 29, 1906

The Beekmans-Virginia, Woodhull and Harold - took Thanksgiving dinner with us. V. was appreciative and bright, but with a tear for changes, those desolating changes; W., somewhat pessimistic about politics and social conditions; H., automobilistic, glorying in an age that moves, especially on wheels and rubber tires. Holidays are milestones on the way to ----- let us not say((!)) we had a good dinner, let us give thanks.

November 30, 1906

At the Elks Hall this evening I saw a pictorial representation of Oberammergau, its village characters and their passion play. The pictures were good, some of them impressive; but the lecturer was not particularly informing: he seldom did more than to point out what was plainly to be seen in the pictures. However rude the primitive Christian may have been, the sacrifice of Christ has become a spiritual and sacred tradition, and its crude portrayal or presentment by these unrefined rustics leaves after it an unfine air, a sense of bruised feelings.

December 3, 1906

Blanche and I sat through one of Keith and Proctor's vaudeville entertainments this evening at their house recently opened in this city. B. seemed to enjoy it, but prefers, I believe, good plays to these choppy shows. Some of the humorous parts or hits struck me amidships and must have made my face at times look like a big sunflower, but the smile happily was intermittent and not fixed. It was all pleasing enough.

The night turned very cold and we butted home against a shrewish wind. The full round moon looked down bleakly from the steel-blue heavens and cast a ghostly light in the streets. And yet the night was glorious; its power and majesty made me oblivious of stagecraft, of almost all else. And I went to bed feeling the subtle pathos of the fate that hides from inquiring hearts the inscrutable purposes of our brief passage beneath the stars.

December 7, 1906

As we grow wiser, richer, with each experience here.

Greater the break of the grave, fuller the life hereafter.

December 11, 1906

Took Marie to a concert this evening, given for the benefit of the House of the Homeless. The program was good and luckily short, for even linked sweetness may be too long drawn out. On our way home we discussed the relative merits of music and poetry, inclining to the latter as the more complete and embodied art, yet having a sufficiency of music in its prosody.

December 12, 1906

This afternoon I was present at the laying of the corner-stone of the new Courthouse, at the junction of Baldwin and Newark Avenues. It was accomplished auspiciously in winter sunshine.

Justice Fort, uncovered and in his official robes, constructively laid the stone, with a few remarks. Mr. Charles L. Corbin, of our Bar, leaning on a crutch and wearing a slouch hat, read and address, giving some account of the old courthouse, with pertinent suggestions relative to the site, judges, juries and court records. The affair was appropriate enough - it formed a picture of a sort, thoughtful of a kind, but it might have been managed differently; it could have been improved in precision and dignity.

December 18, 1906

Paid the taxes on our country property.

December 20, 1906

There are so many things people fancy they know,
Yet instinctively I feel they are not quite so.

December 25, 1906

It is very cold but fair. A tinge of sadness creeps in with the chill, a more acute sense of the ever present tragedy in life. Yet here is Christmas with its color and cheer.

I made a few presents and greetings and received a few. At home during the day, after so much dining, wining and confectionary, I took a turn around the lighted town. The refrigerant air had swept most of the moving figures indoors from the streets; it crisply tempered my blood and lower chambers, it cooled finely my cockloft to even thoughts. Then home, more candy, mousing over gift books, smoking, a little parlor talk with my sisters, a nightcap, and to bed. So slipped out another red day.

December 27, 1906

Christianity is the gentleness of humanity. Theology obfuscates, Christ clears.

January 1, 1907

The Old Year went out wet and weeping; The New Year stepped in smiling - Out of the old, out of the past it came, With all the powers and history of the past, Yet prepared to deal a few new tricks With its forward pointing hand.

January 3, 1907

Deliberately, but with self control and proper sanctions, prefer the unique life, leading its own particular, large, fine, free way, to the banal, the life of the multitude, sheep-like, conventionalized, conveniently safe and comparatively wise, yet lacking in wit, ingenuity, originality, and undistinguished, that is, superficially, for beneath the surface, it is variously differentiated, as all humanity is, only its indices are less apparent, less salient than in the case of those having a genius for direction and initiative. In this way you are apt to find your own, and he only is truly happy who has found his own. In this way you are apt to realize your ideals, and that is better than a Mount Ossa of money piled on a Pelion of customary rewards and honors.

January 14, 1906

Paid the taxes on our city property.

1906 Cash Account. February Journal, Feb. 13: (printed blurb follows)

BUILDING CONTRACTS. JERSEY CITY. MANNERS, Edwin, with Louis Fort: All electrical wiring for new building now being erected at 75 and 77 Newark Ave..$290. (Notes follow) Contracts previously filed, $12,154.00 Louis Fort $290.00 $12,444.00

These with extras and the architect's fees will bring the cost up to $14,000.

(March and April Cash Account page cut out: had some writing, maybe rough draft of poem)

(Loose letter - intro to Princeton on Hasbrouck Institute letterhead)

June 23d, 1873,

To the President and Faculty of Princeton College -

This will introduce to your favorable notice E. Manners - He is fully prepared to enter the Freshman class of any college in the Country. He is a good student, and will be an ((ovellment)) to the College he enters -

Hoping that my high hopes for his noble future will not be disappointed I confidently Commend him to your care and guidance,

W. Hasbrouck.

Cash Account. May 1906

Friday, May 18.
To-night I attended the Half-Century Banquet of the Hasbrouck Institute. It was given in the Assembly Hall of the school. A glance at the large enthusiastic gathering sufficed to show the strong hold the Institute has on the affections of its alumni, alumnae and former students. We were distributed at a number of small tables, grouped in the main according to classes. Dr. Shelton and his wife, of Montclair, sat with me. We represented '73 and pledged anew its allegiance. The speaking was not brilliant, which perhaps was not to be expected, but the reminiscences were not put in as entertaining and finished a manner as might justly be expected. It mattered not: we applauded; we enjoyed ourselves.

I deem it my good fortune to have gone, when a boy, to Hasbrouck and come under the influence and training of its characteristic founder, Washington Hasbrouck. He was an odd genius, likeable, and with rave gifts as a teacher. He may have lacked in methods, methods that are now wisely open to criticism, but he measured the respective merits and defects of his pupils with a surer intuitive touch than can be obtained by any system. He strengthened the one: he attempted to counteract or supply the other. Above all he created enthusiasm for studies.

How vividly the impressions of those early days come back! Mr. Clark was our instructor in Greek. I can see the amused or knowing smile come in his face as we proceed with ((Xenophen)) so many more parasangs. There was Mr. Greenwood, short of stature but long in Latin. How subtly I was moved to poetic issues as we translated that beautiful passage in the fourth book of the Aeneid about night, when all the world seemed hushed and at rest, save only the hapless Queen Dido. Alas! poor Dido poured forth her heart for love of the usually pious, but in this case perfideous Aeneas. Oh, the light, the forms, the color, the picture, of the ancient classics! - can they ever fade? can they ever fail to delight? I should like to say something of Mr. Wortendyke, who held us in mathematics to calculation stern, and of others to whom we owe debts of gratitude.

But greatly indeed, perhaps most of all, the principal, the headmaster Hasbrouck, impressed me. He was a picturesque figure on the street, as he strode along with a swinging gait, wearing a large cloth or felt hat, cane in hand, and accompanied by his dog. I see him get up at morning service and read with much force some psalm of David or proverb of Solomon, applying it aptly and with quaint illustration to the conduct of life. He seemed to prefer the proverbs, apparently because they gave forth wisdom in tabloid form. I see him seated at his desk on the platform, writing with that famous quill-pen of his. I note the very curves and bold strokes of his chirography. Now and again he lifts his head, his long ((ellocks)) thrown back, to survey the student-body. His look at times becomes glancing, eagle-like, as he detects an unruly member and demands his hat! For we were a strenuous lot of lads in those days, and simply refused to be kept in after school hours, unless constrained by the executive order of taking our hats. And I know at least one quondam boy, who, bravely but somewhat sheepishly, ventured home hatless.

I wonder how this measure of discipline would work at present time, when the girls have flocked to the Institute in such charming bevies and with such brilliant plumage. The hat makes the woman, it is said, and I fear, if their head gear were seized, the dear creatures would feel that they had lost their heads, and, I am sure, in the presence of such a motley collection of dreams, of millinery creations, the men would become bewildered and lose theirs. The result might be no end of romantic and possibly tragic complications. This dramatic situation is suggested as a warning to Mr. Stimets, the present principal, and his faithful ((carfreves)).

But however we may regard his methods, Washington Hasbrouck was an interesting, a striking personality: he was an excellent preceptor and well liked by his pupils, the more perhaps because of his delightful peculiarities. He treated them with consideration, with kindliness; he treated them as human beings with souls, not as so much raw material to be placed in the educational hopper and ground out into specification bricks. He knew that wonderful being called boy, and not only imparted to him knowledge, but brought out what was best in him; he cultivated his better traits, his salient and distinctive qualities, his individuality. And this, I take it, is a great, perhaps the greatest part of education.

Not only did I enjoy this golden jubilee feast, the friendly salutations of so many of the old boys, but I am glad in this comment to express my appreciation, my gratitude, and to sing again the praises of my old school.

Memoranda 1906

(Article by Manners)

DO YOU KNOW ANY FAMOUS TREE HERE?

Since the Evening Journal some days ago pointed out that in a list of noted trees of this country compiled by the American Civic Association, and that not one tree, according to the association catalogue issued, was credited to this State, much interest has been aroused. Letters have been received by the editor of the Evening Journal, pointing out that New Jersey has some famous trees after all, even if the American Civic Association is unaware of their existence.

The following letter on this subject has been written by Mr. Edwin Manners, a well known member of the Hudson County bar, and whose father was one of Jersey City's Mayors: Editor of Evening Journal:

To the interesting list of famous American trees, noted in your paper the other night, might appropriately be added the following:

The apple tree, near Bergen Square, Jersey City, under which Generals Washington and Lafeyette dined, when planning the retreat through the Jerseys.

The thirteen trees planted by Alexander Hamilton, near One Hundred and Forty-third Street and Amsterdam Avenue, New York.

The catalpas, in front of Morven at Princeton, N. J., planted before the Revolution and said to bloom patriotically on the Fourth of July.

Others could be named, such as Stuyvesant's pear tree, especially if trees not now living should be included, as they properly should be in a list of any permanence.

The Bergen Square tree was overthrown by a gale in 1821 and a cane cut from its wood presented to Gen. Lafayette on his visit to America in 1824. But once famous always famous, and we may speak of this old apple tree as traditionally and historically existent, even as we speak of the mulberry tree at Babylon under which Pyramus and Thisbe met their fate.

Edwin Manners.

This letter on the same theme has also been received:

"In regard to your editorial about the "Famous Trees," would say that New Jersey can boast of one, the famous oak tree just outside of Princeton, where Gen. Mercer of the Revolutionary War was killed. It was standing a year ago last fall. I have heard nothing contrary in that time."

From Crosswick, N. J., another writer to the Evening Journal sends the following:

"One of the State's most noticeable historic structures is a large brick meeting house which was built by the Chesterfield Monthly Meeting of Friends in the year 1693, and which is still in an excellent state of preservation. During the Revolutionary War the Hessian troops occupied the building and were driven away by the American troops under Gen. Washington just after the capture of Trenton. A cannon ball was shot through the north side of the building, the hole in the wall is plainly visible, the ball being now in the possession of Mrs. Martha B. Ellis of this village. Bayonet marks in the floor and on the benches are plainly discernable. A stove for burning wood more than 100 years old still in use in the meeting house is another interesting reminder of other days. The Hicksite branch of the Society of Friends now occupies the building, as in the past. The noble oak tree which has stood in the meeting house yard longer than can be remembered, measures twenty-two feet in circumference around the trunk, and is till well preserved."

From and antiquarian and historical point it is to be regretted that Jersey City has lost two famous trees, the destruction of which several years ago was necessitated by the onward march of commercial and civic progress. The late Prosecutor Charles H. Winfeld, who was a sort of American Jonathan Oldbuck in his way, told stories about them at a meeting in the eightees of the then Historical Society of New York. One of these trees, a tall elm, shaded a once famous tavern which flourished a hundred years ago and more and the remains of which now stand at the northeast corner of Washington and York streets. It was then as inn at which the old coaches from the post road to Philadelphia used to stop and passengers alighted there to take the ferry, a few hundred yards down the street, to New York City. Indeed, a part of the stone hitching post still stands at the curb on the corner, placed there through the efforts of Mr. Winfield and the late Dr. Leonard J. Gordon. Around the old elm were benches where the "villagers" were wont to sit and quaff their ale. Under this tree Mr. Winfield used to relate many of the Revolutionary and subsequently Civil War officers held conferences, particularly when the river was rough and the ferryboat was delayed.

The other tree, a sturdy oak, now a memory of Revolutionary days, waved its tall branches over a second inn which away back stood on the site of what is now the First Presbyterian Church. That rugged tree, so Mr. Winfield said, was then known for miles around as the "crazy Britishers' roost" for on one occasion a part of red coats preferring to tarry and drink found the ale so good that they forgot the proximity of the Continentals and were caught after a bloody fight. But the oak, like the elm down the hill, had to go and the places which knew them know them no more. (Article from Sept.15, 1906 New York Times followed by handwritten response)

TOPICS OF THE TIMES.
Mr. Shorter Knows Something.

Tell us, O Clio, and with all convenient speed, what MR. CLEMENT K. SHORTER, the more or less learned Briton, means by hinting at some sort of a mystery in the death of GEORGE WASHINGTON? We had ourselves supposed that ever since the country's Father ceased to live, everybody concerned by his demise - no few millions, that - knew all the details of the lamentable event, and yet Mr. SHORTER, in his own paper, the Sphere, gravely says to the Londoners and others: "It is an interesting point in connection with WASHINGTON, the great and justly honored figure in a country where in recent years literary reticence has been most thrown aside, that no biographer of WASHINGTON has ever given us an accurate account of the great President's death, although cultivated Americans will talk about it freely and agree as to the facts."

To the Editor of the New York Times:

After reading your editorial comment on Mr. Clement K. Shorter's covert reference to Washington's death, I deem it only right to say that there is a story current about the provoking cause of his death, that is told sub rosa among cultivated Americans. Whether it is well-authenticated, I do not know. It was related to me many years ago and I have heard it more recently, so it seems to persist and no doubt is what Mr. Shorter had in mind. As it is not a matter of record but traditionary, I would better leave it that way. Yet I fancy some mystery, such a dark mystery as this, must add mordant interest to the shadowless figure of the First President.

In extenuation, assuming the circumstance true, it may be said, that he was of the eighteenth century moral habit, not so very different from that of the twentieth, though decidedly less hypocritical; of the age of Frederick the Great, who on occasion carried off his court ladies. And love - love conquers everyone, even a Nelson or Washington.

E. M.
Jersey City, Sept. 16, 1906.

Note. - Such is the wretched necessity or exaction of our conventions, that one must hedge and extend when one would only be natural. Far be it from me, by preference, to apologize for any item in the conduct of Washington or of any man. There is a measure of presumption in justifying only less than that involved in condemnation. We should be too knowing for that. I would tell simply the tale, but -. Most of us, I presume, live within our light and understanding of our nature, substantially alike but differing in each case. In doing so, especially if we act wisely with the whole temperament, we are living within our rights and divinely, provincial and uniformed conceptions to the contrary notwithstanding. By reason of this alleged incident, which no one is in a position to affirm or deny or truly judge, I consider Washington, like some of the characters in the Bible, all the more interesting, complex, rounded and humanly comprehensive. How all living and complete the patriarchs of old appear, so human, so divine! And St. Paul surely did not show himself less great but greater, when he magnanimously said, "I am a man of like passions with you".