A Study in Heredity and Contradictions. Slason Thompson
musician and passionately fond of children, and it was his wont in early life to gather them in groups about him and beguile them by the hour with the music of the flute or violin. He was actually devoid of all ambition for power and place, and uniformly declined all offers of advancement to the highest judicial honors of the state."
From the lips of Samuel Knox, of the St. Louis bar, we have this testimony as to the remarkable extent and versatility of Roswell M. Field's talents:
"Uniting great industry and acquirements with the most brilliant wit and genius, well and accurately informed on all subjects, both in science and art; endowed with a memory that retained whatever it received, with quick and clear perceptions, the choicest, most felicitous, and forcible language in which to clothe his thoughts, no one could doubt his meaning or withhold the tribute of wonder at his power."
To clinch the evidence as to the source from which Eugene Field derived pretty nearly everything that won for him such meed of fame as fell to his lot, let me quote from an interview with Melvin L. Gray, his guardian and foster-father, printed in the Helena Independent, September 6th, 1895, shortly before his idol's death:
"If I had never believed in the influence of heredity before, I would now, after having known Eugene Field and his father before him. The father was a lawyer of wonderful ability, but he was particularly distinguished by his keen wit, his intense appreciation of the humorous side of life, and his fondness for rare first editions of literary works. He was a profound student, and found much time to cultivate the fairer qualities that some lawyers neglect in the busy round of their profession. Eugene is not a lawyer, but he has his father's tastes, his father's keen wit, and much of the same fineness of character and literary ability."
"Another point of similarity is found in Eugene's neglect of financial matters. In his youth the father was equally negligent, although he did subsequently grow more thrifty, and when he died left the boys a little patrimony. As executor I apportioned the money as directed. Both the boys spent it freely while it lasted."
I find no trace in the father of what, all through life, was the pre-eminent characteristic of Eugene, the inveterate painstaking, mirth-compelling practical-joker. But in Brattleboro, Newfane, and throughout Vermont everybody says, "That's jest like his uncle Charles Kellogg. There was never such another for jest foolin'. He'd rather play a hoax on the parson that would embarrass him in the face of his congregation than eat." When they were boys, it was Charles that led Roswell into all kinds of mischief. "Uncle Charles Kellogg"—they always give him the benefit of the second name in Brattleboro—had a reputation for wit and never-ending badinage throughout the neighborhood that still survives and leaves no room to question whence Eugene inherited his unquenchable passion "for jest foolin'."
CHAPTER IV
BIRTH AND EARLY YOUTH
For nine years after moving to St. Louis his profession was the sole mistress of Roswell Field's "laborious days" and bachelor nights. Almost coincident with his becoming interested in the case of the slave, Dred Scott, he met, and more to the purpose of this narrative, became interested in Miss Frances Reed, then of St. Louis, but whose parents hailed from Windham County, Vermont. Whether their common nativity, or the fact that her father was a professional musician, first brought them together, the memory of St. Louis does not disclose. Miss Reed was a young woman of unusual personal charm. All accounts agree that she was quiet and refined in her ways and yet possessed that firmness of mind that is the salt of a quiet nature. They were married in May, 1848, and in the love and domestic happiness of his mature manhood, Roswell Field found the sweet balm for the bitterness that followed from his youthful romance and the nullification of the Putney marriage.
Of this union six children were born in the eight years of Mrs. Field's wedded life, only two of whom, Eugene, the second, and Roswell, survived babyhood. There is some uncertainty as to the exact date and location of Eugene's birth. When his father was married he took his bride home to a house on Collins Street, which, under Time's transmuting and ironical fingers, has since become a noisy boiler-shop. There their first child was born. Subsequently they moved to the house, No. 634 South Fifth Street (now Broadway), which is one in the middle of a block of houses pointed out in St. Louis as the birthplace of Eugene Field. Although Eugene himself went with the photographer and pointed out the house, his brother Roswell strenuously maintains that Eugene was born before the family moved to the Walsh row, so-called, and that to the boiler-shop belongs the honor of having heard the first lullabies that greeted the ears of their greatest master.
Roswell's view receives negative corroboration from the testimony of Mrs. Temperance Moon, of Farmington, Utah, who for a time lived in their father's family. Under date of February 25th, 1901, Mrs. Moon wrote to me:
"I can give you very little information in regard to Mr. Field's place of birth. It was on Third Street. I do not remember the names of the cross streets, I think Cherry was one. Eugene was four months old when I went to live with them. I stayed until the family went east for the summer. Mrs. Field's sister was living with them. Her name was Miss Arabella Reed. When they came back Roswell was a few months old. They went to live on Fifth Street in a three-story house. Mrs. Field sent word for me to come and take care of Eugene. I was twelve years old. She gave me full charge of him. I was very proud of the charge. He was a noble child. I loved him as a dear brother. He took great delight in hearing me read any kind of children's stories and fairy tales. His mother was a lovely woman. I have a book and a picture Eugene sent to me. The picture is of him and his mother when he was only six months old."
Equal and illusive doubt hangs over the date of Eugene Field's birth. Was it September 2d or 3d, 1850? In his "Auto-Analysis," of which we shall hear more further along, Field himself gives preference to the latter figure. But as his preference more than half the time went by the rule of contraries, that would be prima-facie evidence that he was born on the earlier date. There again the testimony of the younger brother is to the effect that in their youth the anniversary of Eugene's birth was held to be September 2d. Their father said he could not reconcile his mind to the thought that one of his children was born on so memorable an anniversary as September 3d, the day of Cromwell's death. I have little doubt that Field himself fostered the irrepressible conflict of dates, on the theory that two birthdays a year afforded a double opportunity to playfully remind his friends of the pleasing duty of an interchange of tokens on such anniversaries. If they forgot September 2d, he could jog their memories that Cromwell's death on September 3d, two centuries before, was no excuse for ignoring his birth on September 3d, 1850.
Whether born on the anniversary of Cromwell's death or in the boiler-shop, no stories of the youthful precocity of Eugene Field survive to entertain us or to suggest that he gave early indication of the possession either of unusual talent or of that unique personality that were to distinguish him from the thousands born every day.
But Eugene and Roswell, Jr., were not long to know the watchful tenderness and ambitious solicitude of that "mother love" of which the elder has so sweetly sung. In November, 1856, when Eugene was six years old, their mother died and their father's thoughts instinctively turned to his sister, hoping to find with her, amid scenes familiar to his own youth, a home and affectionate care for his motherless boys. How the early loss of his mother affected the life of Eugene Field it is impossible to tell. Not until the boy of six whom she left had become a man of forty did he attempt to pay a tribute of filial love to her memory. The following lines, under the simple title, "To My Mother," first appeared in his "Sharps and Flats" column, October 25th, 1890. It was reprinted in his "Second Book of Verse." The opening lines summon up a tender picture of a "grace that is dead":
How fair you are, my mother!
Ah, though 'tis many a year
Since you were here,
Still do