In Montreux, Switzerland, a year ago, I had the great pleasure of meeting Clifford Harrison,1 an English "musical reciter," artist, poet, musician and gentleman; who, after expressing his warm admiration and affection for yourself, mentioned that he had heard Tennyson2 speak in much the same way.
My husband ("J.C.T. Jr")3 casually mentioned this in writing to a friend who at once replied saying he had a friend who knew you, and asking that we get from Mr. Harrison a more definite statement of what loc_vm.00386.jpg loc_vm.00387.jpg Tennyson had said. Our friend believed that you would be gratified by such a message.
I had then gone to Italy, but I at once wrote Mr. Harrison and soon received from him a very charming letter, expressing not only what he remembered of Tennyson's words, but also his own very deep feelings toward you, and giving me permission to forward the letter to our friend for you, which of course I did, and I have always understood that you received it; but I am surprised to see that in Lippincott's4 (foot-note to p 381) you quote, instead of this, from my husband's letter to our friend (it was from not to, J.C.T. Jr); and I therefore cannot help questioning whether you ever received Mr. Harrison's letter to me, which must have given you far more pleasure than my husband's very dubious applause, which indeed he never loc_vm.00388.jpg loc_vm.00389.jpg dreamed would meet your eye, still less that of the public.5
I value Mr. Harrison's letters and have been comforting my soul with the idea that you prized the one I refer to, so much that you wished to keep it; but I cannot understand why you did not quote directly from it.
Is it possible that in all the delightful chaos of your home, Mr. Harrison's letter has been lost sight of?6 He is a man, whose natural refinement of both mind and temperment makes his love and praise, a thing to be grateful for, even by so great a poet as yourself; he used to say that your poems alone "took him out of doors," and though keenly susceptible himself to the beauty of rhythm, he used to smile compassionately when we objected to what we called the "rockiness" of your verses.
loc_vm.00390.jpg loc_vm.00391.jpgWe intensely enjoyed Mr. Harrison's "musical recitations," in which he accompanied the spoken words with chords and melodies, always reminding me of walking alone through the woods and hearing the wind in the branches of the trees, which to my fanciful imagination, whistled merrily, or moaned sadly, according to my thoughts.
Unfortunately Mr. Harrison's ill-health prevents his continuing his work or coming to America as he had hoped to do. He made me feel that we, your neighbors, were unappreciative and stupid when he sang your praises and said that one of his first pleasures upon arriving in America, would be to try to be admitted to your presence. I even planned silently to myself that after I returned home I would go over to Camden and pass your house in the hope of seeing you at your window. But your message to me loc_vm.00392.jpg loc_vm.00393.jpg "Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak me? And why should I not speak to you?"7 emboldens me to ask whether my husband and I may not call upon you some day at your convenience. It would be a great treat to us and we will promise not to bore you.
Yours sincerely Lucy L. Trautwine loc_vm.00394.jpg loc_vm.00395.jpg loc_vm.00396.jpgCorrespondent:
Lucy Lane Trautwine
(1853–1925) was known for her participation in civic and charitable causes
as a committee member for the Civic Club of Philadelphia. During World War I,
Trautwine organized a collection of kidskin gloves to be re-purposed for the
lining of soldiers' coats, and she served for twelve years as Chair of the
Transit Conditions Committee that represented the interests of travelers and
drivers during the rapid modernization of Philadelphia's public transit system.
For more information, see Trautwine's obituary in the Red Bank
Register, 48.13 (September 16, 1925), 14.