The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1888-06-07
WIVES OF AUTHORS.
Literary Men Who owe Much to Their
Matrimonial Partners.

Literary Men Who Owe Much to Their
Matrimonial Partners.
1t seems to have been the proper
thing for authors to marry, although
history shows that their tastes in this
direction have not run towards their
sister writers. Literature and matri-
mony have walked hand in hand down
the paths of time, but in some notori-
Gus instances these hands have not
gripped one another as lightly as might
be desired. Almost all the greatpoets,
novelists, historians, &C., have been
married men, some of them having
gone through the ordeal more than
once. 1t is question whether there
was Mrs. Homer, and all speculation
as to her identity and her manner of
doing up preserves must be left until
the probability of her husbands exist
ence has been fully substantiated. As
to Mrs. Shakespeare, in view of the
approaching publication of Mr.. L.
Donnelly's book, it is hard " safe to say
that Shakespeare was married to Anna
Hathaway; she may have been Mrs.
Bacon. These doubtful matters aside,
it is an incontroyertible fact that liter
ary geniuses do not disdain marriage.
In former centuries they even went so
far as to form love-making trust"
which served to drive less eloquent
but fully as respectable gentlemen
from the coniugal field. Such doings
are happily at an end.
The question naturally arises, what
were these wives doing while their
husbands were winning dollars and
press notices in the ring of fame? 1t is
not probable that they were content to
have no voice in their husbands utter
ances no part in the labor of COM
position and revision, even though they
did not come in for a share of the
profits. Certainly, the wives OF the
authors of our present time cannot be
classed among the lilies of the literary
field, for many of them both toll and
spin. Their names may be unknown
to the reading world; the dear public
may not be aware that such persons
even exist. Yet in many instances
they are responsible for portions OF
their husbands work, and perhaps for
some of the success, too. Such assis-
tance is not confined to any one depart
ment of literary laborers; in history, in
fiction, in science, even in the more
ephemeral newspaper work, the ladies
are there.
William Dean Howells is a short,
thiek-set man, with mustache, and
the kind of eyes styled piercing" A
lady, we'll acquainted with the Howells
family, was saying recently that in
reading the latter works of the novelist
she met passages which had a familiar
appearance. She did not believe she
had seen them in print before, but little
bits of description of dress or scenery,
little remarks, opinions or witty say
ings, had a reminiscent quality, not
the language especially, but the sub
stance. The secret is in Mr.. Howells's
powers as quick observer, and the
fact that he is blessed with bright,
intelligent wife. and she with a bright,
intelligent sister. Many the happy
thought, the witty comparison, the
picturesque remembrance, is given ex-'
preston in the home intercourse of this
family, daily ing at the breakfast table,
or at eve, when the two ladies and the
Boston novelist are seated comfortably
in the best room, with the light from
two student lamps throwing a radiance
around them. 1t is not to be supposed
that Mr.. Howells waits expectantly,
with notebook in hand, ready to take
shorthand report of the family con-
versation. He photographs it men
tally, and its good things are preserved,
to be used in connection with the
romance of his next hero or heroine.
The operation is almost unconscious.
The lady above mentioned says that
after she had explained to herself the
apparent familiarity of parts of Mr..
Howells's books she reread all of them,
trying to discover to what extent Mrs.
Howells and her sister had been made
use of in this manner. And now when
she hears either of the ladies say a par
ticularly good thing she just makes up
her mind that she'll look out for that
in the next volume.
In a cosy flat at Washington Heights
may be found Mr.. and Mrs. William
Henry Bishop engaged in putting the
finishing touches to Mr. Bishops new
novel. Before this gentleman took
unto himself a wife the manuscripts of
his stories arrived at the publishing
rooms of Messrs. Harper & Brothers
with all the erasures, interlineations,
changes and additions playing "blind-
mans buff over the paper. No at
tempt was ever made to take fair
copy until the reign of Mrs. Bishop;
and now every story OF magazine
article is carefully copied before it
is allowed to leave the lady's hands.
She also takes part in the cutting and
trimming operation whenever it is
necessary, and puts really as much
energy and care into her work as her
husband does into his. Together they
read each manuscript over and over
again, until it suits the taste of both in
all particulars. 1t ought to be a pretty
good story when it leaves their hands
and it generally is.
Then way out in Indiana is Ben
Hur'' Wallace and ''the wife of my
youth, VINO still abides with me-" The
General wrote his great work almost
wholly in the presence of his wife. She
was his resource whenever doubt
existed as to any proper adjective to
hit the meaning of the writer; the two
debated for days at a time on the
merits and propriety of some word or
phrase. While the book was in the
course of writing it engrossed Mrs.
Wallace's whole attention; she scanned
every sentence, and if she found any,
thing which did not seem to her exact
ly right the General had to explain
and justify its use, and perhaps finally
accept a substitute of her suggesting.
The late Prof Youmans had a wife
who was more interested in him and his
work than in anything else. She be-
came an expert in botany or some
other science; and although she may
not have written or suggested much
she knew pretty well what the professor
was doing. Hers was also the business
head of the family. A gentleman
called one day at their house in
Fifteenth street, and meeting Mr..
Youmans in the hall, asked as to his
wife's whereabouts. The Professor re-
piled with thoughtful air that 'he
supposed she was upstairs, making a
bargain to sell the house to some one;
he really didn't know"
There are not a few newspaper men
whose wives. are constant helpmates in
their profession. The wife of Frank
G. Carpenter, the Washington cores
pondent, used to clip, every day.. from
score or more of newspapers, articles |