The Making of a Manuscript: A Look at Gladys Huntington's Editing Process From Turgeniev to The Borrowed Life

I.

“TURGENIEV: A Play in Two Acts” proclaims the cover of a typewritten manuscript in the the Gladys and Constant Huntington collection. It’s an unassuming document, the pages of which are beige and slightly worn with age. Undated and unsigned, the only hints at its provenance are the name and professional address of “C. Huntington” in London and a sheet of Putnam & Co Ltd stationery noting that the manuscript had been sent- to and from whom as of yet unknown- “with compliments.” The initials S.H. are marked in the top-left corner of the first page. In all of my research into their life in London, reading of their correspondence, and work with their notebooks, no such play has been mentioned. 

Another manuscript in the collection, printed on the same material by the same typewriting, shorthand, and duplicate company (Ethel Christian, advertised as “The Smartest in London”), is clearly identifiable as Gladys’ play “The Ladies’ Mile”, which she had written early in her life (dated 20/12/1944)  and planned to adapt into a novel following the success of Madame Solario. The manuscript notes “Mrs. Huntington” at Amberley House in Sussex as the return address. This only compounds the mystery of “Turgeniev”- did Gladys write it? Did Constant, whose name is printed inside the cover? If it was sent from the Putnam offices, presumably to be reviewed by a reader, how did it end up in Constant’s or Gladys’ hands? An off hand quotation from Willa Cather’s 1918 novel My Ántonia by one of the characters suggests that the play must have been written following its publication, and the “Putnam and Co Ltd” stationery indicates the manuscript was sent at some point after 1930, when Constant secured a controlling interest in the London branch of Putnam and changed the name from G. P. Putnam’s Sons. By this time, Constant had led the London offices for over two decades (University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Archives).

“Turgeniev'' is the fictionalized drama of the life of Russian literary giant Ivan Turgenev (the commonly accepted Western spelling of his name, curiously shunned by the author of this play). The play takes place in the early 1860’s, in the French villa of Madame Pauline Viardot, a renowned opera singer of Spanish descent. She lived there with her husband Louis, and for a time, with Turgenev, who had fallen madly in love with her after watching her perform in Russia when he was a young man (Battersby). He followed her to Europe and became a permanent fixture in the Viardot household, passionately in love with Pauline and a close companion to her husband and children. The unusual arrangement presumably worked well for the three, though it caused much dismay to the Russian public, who resented the fact that such a luminary Russian author would live beyond their national borders (Battersby). 

Dostoevsky (who would later come to regard him with disdain) wrote of Turgenev upon meeting him, “A poet, a talent, an aristocrat, superbly handsome, rich, clever, educated, twenty-five years old- I can’t think what nature has denied him” (Schapiro 50). Unfortunately, their political differences would later prove an insuperable barrier between the two men, and any hope of an amicable relationship faltered. Likewise, his relationship with Tolstoy was marred by tension and political differences; at one point, Turgenev’s public dislike of Tolstoy became so extreme that it prompted a challenge to duel (an event which ultimately went unrealized) (Schapiro 172). The names of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy resonate throughout the modern day, marking their enduring literary achievements, while Turgenev’s name has faded somewhat from all but those with an express interest in Russian literature. Of course, his enormous impact on the literary and political landscape of Russia is still remembered well by his country. Turgenev’s A Sportsman’s Sketches is widely credited for bringing about the abolition of serfdom in Russia, and the Turgeniev play picks up the public’s confusion over his next novel, Fathers and Sons, which takes a more ambivalent attitude towards the future of Russia. Coupled with his relocation from Russia to France at Viardot’s behest, Turgenev’s political alliances were publicly called into question.

The front page to the Bantam Classic edition of “Fathers and Sons”, which speaks to Turgenev’s impact as a writer.

The play’s text is rife with consideration of the same questions that preoccupied the literature and life of Turgenev- whether art should strive for political or aesthetic ambitions, the literary imagination, and the destructive force of passion and love. While the play is grounded in the history of Turgenev and Viardot, the next generation of characters come from the author’s imagination. The ethereal Delphine Viardot, fictional daughter of the nonfictional Pauline, is one such character. In Countess Alexandra Tolstoy’s introduction to Turgenev’s seminal work Fathers and Sons, she quotes a remark he made to a friend:  “I could never invent my characters...I could not create an imaginary type. I had to choose a living person and combine in this person many characteristics in conformity with the type of my hero” (Tolstoy viii). The author of Turgeniev seems to have picked up on his technique; Delphine is often referred to as almost a creature sprung from Turgenev’s mind:

TURGENIEV: It may be only a fancy, but sometimes I am afraid...that you enter too much into what I have imagined...My child, Delphine, it mustn’t become a spell that we will have to break. You mustn’t have your life in my imagination. (77.3.I)

❋

TURGENIEV: To tell the truth, [Bazarov] has taken on a life of his own, and now he alarms me a little- and he himself is laughing at me! That is what sometimes happens- a creature of the imagination goes forth and lives, independent of its creator!

DELPHINE, who has been sitting in an intense stillness and inner concentration, puts down her work, and gazes at him. (13.1.II)

The Frankenstein-esque undertones of this scene are unmistakable- both in the sense of Delphine and of Yevgeny Bazarov, protagonist of Fathers and Sons. Indeed, Turgenev told the same aforementioned friend, “The character of Bazarov tormented me to such an extent, that sometimes when I sat at the dinner table, there he was sticking out in front of me. I was speaking to someone and at the same time I was asking myself: what would my Bazarov say to that?” He reportedly kept notes of imaginary conversations with Bazarov (Tolstoy ix). In the second quotation, Turgeniev’s description of his relentlessly animate character is paired with Delphine’s curious reaction to it, aligning her with his literary imagination that brings characters to life.

Excerpt from "Turgeniev"

Pauline Viardot and Ivan Turgeniev argue over the nature of artistic inspiration.

II.

Seemingly at a crossroads with identification of this manuscript, I reached out to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign’s Rare Book and Manuscript Library, where they hold a G. P. Putnam’s Sons Records collection. With so little information to go off, the archivists there were equally as stumped, but promised to look further in their records of reader’s reports and contracts to find if it had ever been published. The issue resolved itself upon the recent visit of the Urquhart-Ohno family, bearing gifts of more archival material to add to the Constant and Gladys Huntington collection. Among this new material was a playbill for The Borrowed Life: A Play in Three Acts by Gladys Parrish, produced by the Three Hundred Club. A glance through the cast list shows characters Dmitri Alexeitch Arkov, Comte De Laumont, Baron Korff, and Madame Thomar- familiar names from the character list of Turgeniev. However, the play’s namesake is missing, replaced with Ivan Petrovitch Stanin; Pauline and her husband Louis have become Pauline and Edouard Maligé; even Pavel Alexandrovitch Iretzky (who hadn’t appeared to have a real-life counterpart that I could find) was transformed to Pavel Alexandrovitch Islenyev. The addition of a third act is likewise a fascinating change. According to the playbill, Act III reportedly contains “Scene I- Late afternoon in the following November” and “Scene II- Early evening, a month later.” These are new scenes, added on to the revised Turgeniev as it transformed through the editing process to become The Borrowed Life. We don’t presently have a copy of the text of the final play or access to any of its reviews in contemporary newspapers, so the amount of change the manuscript underwent is unclear. Does Turgenev borrow the life of Delphine, using her as if a character in one of his books? Does Pauline borrow the life of Turgenev as it would have been in Russia by compelling him to move from Russia to France?

Page 1 of the Playbill for "The Borrowed Life"

Page 2 of the Playbill for "The Borrowed Life"

Page 3 of the Playbill for "The Borrowed Life"

Evidently, critics and audience members still recognized the mark of Turgenev on Gladys’ play, despite her attempts to distance it from his life and history by changing the title and character names. Perhaps this is why the Sheffield Daily Telegraph in the above image notes it as being of “unusual interest.” Writing about writers and their works was and is not uncommon, and the tumultuous story of Turgenev’s life presents a particularly potent topic for a play like this one. Perhaps Gladys decided she aligned with Pauline Viardot’s idea of art as a transcendental, individual experience rather than Turgenev’s more grounded, politicized approach. In moving away from Turgeniev as a semi-fictional history of a life, she creates The Borrowed Life as a more universal exploration of the intersections between politics and art, and collective and individual loyalties, a work inspired by but not restricted by its ties to a historical reality.

Thanks to these new acquisitions from the Urquhart-Ohnos, we’re able to bear witness to Gladys’ writing process- in this case as she edits Turgeniev into The Borrowed Life. Not only does this play speak to Gladys’ development as a writer as she hones her craft through numerous drafts and changes, but it also demonstrates her growing literary sensibilities. It opens (at least in the Turgeniev version) with representatives of liberal and conservative Russian politics sent to convince Turgenev to return to Russia and interpret his work for their people; much of the play concerns itself with various interpretations of Turgenev’s work as it applies to the political landscape of Russia. As Turgeniev the character and Turgenev the man both remark, his characters and plotlines seem to come alive and require tending to. The climactic debate between Pauline and Turgenev, in which these political consequences come up against purely literary ambitions, has occupied literary critics for many centuries. In Turgeniev, or The Borrowed Life, Gladys gives it form in the words and affairs of two prominent 19th century musical and literary artists.

Bibliography

https://archives.library.illinois.edu/rbml/?p=collections/findingaid&id=943&q=&rootcontentid=90949

“Giant Actor as Turgeniev.” Sheffield Daily Telegraph [Yorkshire, England], 28 November 1930.

Schapiro, Leonard. Turgenev, His Life and Times. 1st American ed., Random House, 1978.

Tolstoy, Alexandra. Introduction. Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev, Bantam Classics, pp. i-xiii.

Waddington, Patrick. “A Catalogue of Letters by I. S. Turgenev to Pauline and Louis Viardot.” New Zealand Slavonic Journal, 1983, p. 249.

Gladys Huntington's Literary Circle

Although Gladys Huntington’s name wasn’t truly known to the public as that of a writer until after her death,[1] she maintained friendships with other authors, some rather well-known, throughout her life. They would often exchange their writing along with their correspondence, encouraging each other and editing their work. Her husband's vocation at Putnam's publishing also granted her a certain increased access to literary circles. This is an overview of some of Gladys’ literary connections and their correspondence, as found in the collection generously donated by Katherine Urquhart Ohno. Gladys certainly had even more friends and acquaintances in the writing world, but these are ones whose correspondence with her survives to this day.

Click on each letter to be redirected to a larger view with a complete transcription.

Content warning for mentions of suicide.

Lady Cynthia Asquith

Lady Cynthia Mary Evelyn Asquith by Bassano Ltd., 1912. National Portrait Gallery, NPG X32899.

The real reason of this letter is to tell you how immensely impressed I have been by “Carfrae’s Comedy” which I have just read for the first time. I was enthralled. I think it has so much quality, and throughout that sense of something momentous impending that Conrad has to so great an extent. I think Blanche is a very real creation, and there is so much good writing in the book.

Lady Cynthia Mary Evelyn Asquith (1887-1960) was a versatile writer, horror/ghost fiction pioneer, and diarist. Lady Cynthia Mary Evelyn Asquith (1887-1960) was a versatile writer, horror/ghost fiction pioneer, and diarist. Much of her work was not known until after her death in 1968, after which her children published their mother’s work.[2]

In 1941, Lady Cynthia wrote Gladys complimenting Carfrae’s Comedy, Glady’s debut novel released in 1915 to mixed reviews. Cynthia was impressed and encouraged Gladys to write more.

Why ever-ever-ever don’t you write another??? Wouldn't it be a good opportunity - this long convalescence? 

Learn more about Lady Asquith here!

Fleming, Colin. “Remembering the Forgotten First Lady of Horror, Cynthia Asquith.” Vice, November 1, 2016.

Fowler, Christopher. “Forgotten Authors: No 4 - Lady Cynthia Asquith.” Independent, October 22, 2011.

Clifford Bax

Clifford Bax by Howard Coster, 1940. National Portrait Gallery, NPG x2780.

The letter is undated and without its envelope, but references “the ‘tough’ and democratic audiences of 1945” so we can assume it was written around then. It references The Ladies’ Mile, a play Gladys wrote but never appears to have published, which she was working on turning into a novel at the time of her death in 1959. This is the only letter between the two that we are aware of, which makes the phrase “you are a strange person with hypersensitive antennae” all the more odd, as it implies a close, jovial relationship between the two, yet Bax opens the letter with “Dear Mrs. Huntington” rather than “Dear Gladys”.

Clifford Bax (1886-1962) was a prolific English writer who explored many mediums (including playwriting, journalism, criticism, editing, translation). He is best known for his plays, such as The Rose without a Thorn (1933) and The Venetian (1931).[3]

In this letter to Gladys, Bax writes:

“What a strange play you have written in “The Ladies’ Mile” (not a good title: not dignified enough): but then you are a strange person with hypersensitive antennae.”

Learn more about Clifford Bax here!

Clifford Bax Papers. University of Rochester, River Campus Libraries: Rare Books, Special Collections and Preservation.

Lady Gregory

Lady Isabella Augusta Gregory (1852-1932) was a writer and playwright who was influential in the Irish Literary Revival of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She founded Abbey Theatre, the national theatre of Ireland, along with William Butler Yeats and Edward Martyn.[4] Lady Gregory was sympathetic to Irish nationalism and focused on Irish traditions and legends in her writing.[5]

Augusta, Lady Gregory by George Beresford, 1911. Hulton Archive, Getty Images.

In her letter, Lady Gregory refers to Gladys as “Mrs. Huntington”—an indication that the two were not particularly close—but it also references some mutual friends, the Shaws. Her letter thanks the Huntingtons for hosting her. It is unlikely that the two exchanged writing samples and had a more surface, social level relationship. 

Learn more about Lady Gregory here!

“All This Mine Alone: Lady Gregory and the Irish Literary Revival.” New York Public Library.

Remport, Eglantina. “A reappraisal of Lady Gregory.” The Irish Times, January 18, 2019.

Viola Meynell

Viola Meynell by E.O. Hoppé, 1916.

There appears to be a pattern of Viola’s criticisms being somewhat backhanded emerging, saying she’s certain Gladys will fix the first part and that she thought Gladys would struggle to stay on topic. She appeared to greatly enjoy it, however, as in another letter, she wrote:

“There’s something about your writing which in a little casual-sounding phrase gets a whole volume of truth - I can hardly express what an utter sense of satisfaction it gives me. I literally don’t know any writing that brings me in more direct touch with life.”

Viola Meynell (1885-1956) was an English writer, best known for her poetry and short stories. She was the daughter of prominent British Catholic writers and publishers, Wilfrid and Alice Meynell.[6] She corresponded with Gladys from at least 1938-1945, discussing life, health, and writing.

In a letter from 1938, Viola compliments Gladys’ writing:

“It is a more wonderful thing even than I expected - at least more wonderful within, that it is at all times accessible, as it were, and does not disappear down labyrinths, as I had thought it might conceivably do here and there.

[…]

I had mostly succeeded in my effort to read it as by someone unknown to me, that I might get the suspense and thrill of half-revealed circumstances and events. (It is so good not to know sometimes, and to be only half-told). But the gradually accumulated weight of agony had to be fastened on to you, and I had the dismay of knowing that it was far worse than I thought.”

Seven years later, the pair was still corresponding about Gladys’ writing:

“I also am thrilled with your beginning, + I am more glad than I can say that you have embarked on this, for I know it will be a wonderful book. I felt, perhaps even more than the other two, the necessity of telescoping this first part, but it is hardly necessary to mention that, because I have enough experience to know that one always goes back, later, + tightens up the beginning.”

Learn more about Viola Meynell here!

Viola Meynell Letters. Boston College, John J. Burns Library: Archives and Manuscript Department.

Leo Myers

Leopold Hamilton Myers (1881-1944) was a British novelist, best known for his book series The Root and the Flower. He supported anarchism and Russian communism, as is evident in both his work and his correspondence with Gladys. He chafed against the expectations of society his entire life and explored spirituality in his work.[7]

Leopold Hamilton Myers by Howard Coster, 1934. National Portrait Gallery, NPG Ax136088.

In a letter to Gladys from October 13, 1940, he mentions working on a book about “…the beautiful world of Anarchism which will eventually come.”

Leo and Gladys corresponded consistently from 1939 (or earlier) to 1941. Their correspondence covered many topics: war, politics, writing, daily life, physical and mental health, and more. Leo was depressed for the duration of their correspondence and became emotionally volatile, which led to the dissolution of many of his friendships toward the end of his life.[8]

Leo was very encouraging of Gladys’ writing. On July 26, 1939 he wrote:

“The description of happiness is exceedingly good. I liked to get away from the love interest for a bit - into happiness. I liked the delicate candour + truth […] of your treatment of P’s nerves + health, I liked the house with its people, & I liked enormously the Uncle John + family part at the end. ”

Beyond compliments, Myers also criticized her work, clearly preferring her less ‘literary’ writing. In the same letter, he says:

“I think this lump is better - more un-literary (Proustian) than the rest. I felt the opening […] to be just a touch Proustian in their attitude […] + the almost too exact narration of details of feeling + sensation.”

Packet holding Gladys and Leo’s last correspondence, on which Gladys wrote.

He and Gladys had a sudden fight about his treatment of a mutual friend, fellow writer Desmond MacCarthy, in March/April 1941, ending their friendship for good—his last letter to her was so insulting she destroyed it. Unfortunately, Myers committed suicide in April 1944, a path Gladys would also take 15 years later.

In 1959, Gladys wrote in her diary on January 18:

“Mr John Morris (Leo Myers’ friend) will come for a drink.” 

Somewhat romantically and fancifully, I interpret this entry as Gladys’ having realized that although what Leo said to her was unacceptable, it was motivated by mental illness and fit into a larger pattern, so she connected with some of his friends.

I also find it interesting that Gladys and Desmond MacCarthy came to be friends. Such good friends, in fact, that her defense of his treatment could end a friendship. In 1924, MacCarthy wrote a less-than-flattering review of Gladys’ play Bartons Folly, saying:

“Miss Gladys Parrish’s Barton’s Folly, acted at the Court Theatre last Sunday, had that “something,” though it was a bad play.”

He concludes his review:

“Though inexpert, confused, and full of bugbears, Barton’s Folly is the work of an imagination.”

It is fascinating to imagine how the potential he sensed in her in this review gave start to a valued friendship.

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It is important to note that all of these literary connections all hail from the upper echelons of society, including some with titles. Although Leo Myers purported to support communism and anarchism, he did not, to our knowledge, redistribute his own significant wealth. He also indicates that Gladys is also sympathetic to those causes in her correspondence, yet her social circle seems confined to her own class. This speaks to who could afford time spent writing and who could not in society around the ‘30s and ‘40s.

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[1] Gladys' journey to recognition as a writer, and as the author of Madame Solario, was not straightforward. To learn more about it, check out this blog post!
[2] Fowler, Christopher. "Forgotten Authors: No 4 - Lady Cynthia Asquith." Independent, October 22, 2011.
[3] "Clifford Bax papers." University of Rochester, River Campus Libraries, Rare Books, Special Collections, and Preservation, D.254.
[4] Van Riper, Tyler. "Alas! a woman may not love!" by Lady Gregory. Washington & Lee University: Shenandoah.
[5] "Augusta, Lady Gregory. Encyclopedia Britannica, May 18, 2021.
[6] "Viola Meynell Letters." Boston College, John J. Burns Library, Archives and Manuscripts Department, MS.1986.035.
[7] Hope, Joan. "L.H. Myers." Salem Press Biographical Encyclopedia, 2021.
[8] Creswell, Sophia. "Myers, Leopold Hamilton (1881-1944), novelist." Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, September 23, 2004.

Alfreda the Artist

As a young girl, Alfreda Huntington demonstrated remarkable artistic ability. In one of the boxes generously donated by Katherine Urquhart Ohno, we found Alfreda’s Anthology of Passages from my Favourite Books, which started life as blank books and was filled over time with color and memories.

Look at all the filled pages of the book here:

• Pages 1-34

• Pages 35-68

Alfreda’s Anthology of Passages from my Favourite Books most follows in the tradition of commonplace books. Commonplace books were blank books that the owner would fill with quotes and passages from favorite works, creating a personal anthology. Traditionally, commonplace books didn’t contain illustrations of quotations, but melding genres of homemade books and documents was common.[1] The practice of collecting quotations from others’ works spans back to antiquity and into today, but commonplace books peaked in popularity during the Renaissance and 17th & 18th centuries.[2]

For each passage from one of her favorite books that she chose to highlight, Alfreda would draw, and often paint, an accompanying illustration.

Alfreda here rewrote a passage from R.H. Bruce Lockhart’s Return to Malaya (Putnam, 1936), which was published by the company Constant Huntington was head of, and tells the story of Lockhart's journey to British Malaya. Lockhart was best known for his book Memoirs of a British Agent (Putnam, 1932).[3]

Some of Alfreda’s favorite books, as listed in this book, were Return to Malaya (1936)—as mentioned above, Karen Blixen - Out of Africa (1937), Apsley Cherry-Garrard - The Worst Journey in the World (1922), Thomas Hardy - Tess of the D’Urbervilles (1891), Dostoevsky - The Idiot (1868), and Thomas Hardy - The Return of the Native (1878).

A selection from Out of Africa is the first one in the book. As the entries in the book appear to have been done in order, although the book is not dated, we can assume Alfreda began it in 1937 or later—age 15 or so.

Toward the end of the book, both the quotes and drawings became less complex—we don’t know why, nor do we know for how long she kept the book.

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Further Reading on Commonplace Books

Locke, John. A new method of making common-place-books. London : Printed for J. Greenwood, bookseller, at the end of Cornhil, next Stocks-Market, 1706. *EC65 L7934 706n. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

Sánchez-Eppler, Karen. “Practicing for Print: The Hale Children’s Manuscript Libraries.” Journal of the History of Childhood and Youth 1, no. 2 (2008): 188-209.

Zboray, Ronald J., and Mary Saracino Zboray. “Is It a Diary, Commonplace Book, Scrapbook, or Whatchamacallit? Six Years of Exploration in New England’s Manuscript Archives.” Libraries & the Cultural Record 44, no. 1 (2009): 102–23.

References

[1] Biersdorfer, J. D. "Create a Digital Commonplace Book." The New York Times, February 10, 2021, sec. Technology.

[2] McKinney, Kelsey. "Social media: Nothing new? Commonplace books as predecessor to Pinterest UT Austin: Ransom Center Magazine, June 9, 2015.

[3] “Books: Sentimental Journey.” Time, December 7, 1936.

Strange Unheard of Things: Catharine Huntington’s Writing and Correspondence with Gladys Huntington

Currently filling the corn barn at PPH are stacks, packages, and bundles of letters written to or by members of the Huntington family. The postdates attest that rarely a day went by without any given Huntington penning a letter to inquire after someone’s health, share an amusing anecdote, or simply catch up, a testament to the family’s proclivity for the written word. Their literary pursuits were not limited to these daily communications; however, many of the family members were published authors, poets, or playwrights. Arria Huntington (1848-1921) wrote plays and memoirs, Ruth Gregson Huntington (1849-1946) published a number of short stories and poems, and in the next generation, Constant Huntington (1876-1962) served as the chairman of the London branch of G. P. Putnam’s Sons Books from 1906 to 1953. He and his wife Gladys were heavily involved in the London literary scene, corresponding and dining with such litterateurs as James Joyce, Desmond McCarthy, and Harold Nicolson. 

Of all the family members, Gladys Parrish Huntington (1887-1959) arguably found the most literary success, although she would only be recognized for it over three decades after she was revealed as the author of the bestselling 1956 novel Madame Solario. This revelation came quietly a few months after the anonymous novel’s publication; Life Magazine reported in its March 18, 1957 edition (which itself cites an earlier article in the London Express that had revealed Gladys’ identity) that “the author was an elderly literary gentlewoman...living in the backwater of Kensington.” Yet, speculation continued for decades. Acclaimed British author Mary Renault, in an interview with The American Scholar in 1970, claims Madame Solario to be “one of the finest novels of our century,” going on to say: “After many inquiries in the publishing world, I learned the author was called Constance Huntington.” Not quite. A 1992 French mystery novella entitled Qui a Écrit Madame Solario? made the bizarre claim that Winston Churchill was the author. Bernard Cohen’s extensive research, published in the French newspaper Libération in 2009, is widely credited for definitively solving the not-so-mysterious mystery, although the novel had been published with Glady’s name on the cover as early as the 1980s. The real mystery is why no one noticed.

Easily regarded as her magnum opus, Madame Solario drew high praise from writers and critics, including comparisons to the prose of Henry James, Edith Wharton, and E. M. Forster. Over half a century following its publication, the allure of the story persists, inspiring a 2012 French film adaption of the provocative tale of incest and social scandal, as well as translations into seven languages. The novel’s consideration of such taboo topics has often been speculated to be the reason for which Gladys chose to conceal her identity as the author upon the initial publication. She published under the name Gladys Parrish as early as 1915 with her novel Carfrae’s Comedy, published by Putnam while Constant was at its head. Her play Barton’s Folly was produced a decade later, receiving an overall unenthusiastic critical response. A packet of reviews of the play’s production we came across consistently categorized it as a disappointment, but recognized the sign of a talented new voice. “The play had that “something” which justified its performance by The Three Hundred. It lay in the dramatist’s sense of the interesting complexity of human relations. Though inexpert, confused, and full of bugbears, Barton’s Folly is the work of an imagination. I found it often absurd, but never dull,” wrote leading literary critic Desmond McCarthy, who would go on to become a close friend of Gladys. She did not publish or produce again for over 30 years, perhaps taking the time to hone her skill and voice as a writer. These efforts were well spent, for two of her stories were subsequently published in The New Yorker in 1952 and then again in 1954 under the name G.T. Huntington, a vague enough stylization of her married name to obfuscate both her gender and any connection to what she previously published. Whether or not this was her intention is unclear, for the runaway success of Madame Solario a few years later established Gladys, by this point in her 70’s, as a brilliant new literary voice.

Tucked away in a packet of correspondence between Gladys and her sister-in-law Catharine Huntington (1887-1987) was a letter from the latter to the former, enclosed in an envelope together with a short story and a photograph of herself. Catharine humbly cautions her sister-in-law about her writing, “It is only a fragment- it may amuse you for a moment- at all events it gives pleasure to send to you.” If Gladys was the literary icon of the family, Catharine was the theatrical. She was involved with the Peabody Playhouse, the Brattle Theatre, the Tributary Theatre, and the Poet's Theatre, juggling the many titles of actress, producer, director, and manager. Further, she helped to found the Boston Stage Society, the Provincetown Playhouse, and the New England Repertory Theatre. Her integral role in New England theatre lasted for over six decades and earned her a Rodgers and Hammerstein Award in 1965, as well as formal recognition from Governor Michael Dukakis and Massachusetts State Legislature in 1985 for her contributions. Before finding her niche in the world of theatre, it seems that Catharine dabbled in writing as so many Huntingtons had before her.

Photo of Catharine Huntington enclosed in her letter to Gladys Huntington

The letter in question is dated only as far as August 11th, although given its subject and contents, it can be dated to 1917, as World War I intensified in Europe. This would have been prior to Catharine’s serious involvement in New England theatre. The letter expresses the perspective of a 30-year-old schoolteacher trying to find her place in the world, seeking a sense of purpose in the war efforts and speaking longingly of lives vastly different from her own. “I long so much to go to France, to serve in the trial… Without any very definite prospect and still uncertain whether it would be right to leave home- I began to prepare,” Catharine writes. She goes on to tell Gladys of her concentrated efforts to this end: enrolling in a nursing course run by the Red Cross, motor driving lessons at the YWCA automobile school, a course in Ford machinery. She practiced her French with a kindly Miss Hough on a bench in the Boston Public Garden and took on nursing shifts at the Massachusetts Homeopathic Hospital,  the building of which today houses Boston University’s School of Public Health. Evidently, her studies paid off, for within a year she had left her job teaching at the Westover School and travelled to France, where she would serve as a nurse’s aid until 1920 in the Wellesley Unit of the YMCA. Contemplating this next chapter in her life, she writes, “I don’t know whether I am in a great mess or gloriously on my way- somewhere.” Catharine concludes her letter by signing off with that same note of desperate ambiguity: “Dearest Gladys- do write more- your life seems so clear and lovely- mine so confused and full of strange unheard of things.” 

“One Afternoon”, the short story Catharine sent along, reflects many of these same sentiments in its protagonist, Laurencina, an aristocratic young woman disillusioned by the allure of high society and feeling unmoored in her life. The piece takes place in the U.S Virgin Islands over nine pages, largely composed of dialogue between Laurencina and her rejected suitor, Charles Durrain. Her writing takes a Whartonian interest in the discontents of the upper class, balancing afternoon social calls, high tea, and literal high brow-edness (“The hair grew thick off his high forehead,” Laurencina observes of Durrain) against Laurencina’s consuming desire for something more that she can neither identify nor attain. 

“Charles-” she broke out, in the midst of something that he was saying, “I am so dissatisfied with my life- You have known me a long time- Why is it that I seem to be accomplishing nothing? I feel that I could be so wonderful, do so much, and here I am day after day.” The thoughts that had crowded her mind for so long- now seemed to have left her. After all, she could not express them.

“Don’t be dissatisfied,” Durrain was saying. “Think of your influence in the family here- and then your father! There is a reason for being of use. What would he do without you?” He spoke in the voice of a teacher.

“Yes,” Laurencina answered in a low tone, “I must not be dissatisfied.” And then her passion broke out again. “You are a man, and cannot judge fairly. There is your work at the Embassy, and your visits here and there, moonlight rides-”

Catharine’s keen awareness of the different prospects available to men and women comes through in Laurencina’s reticence to accept Durrain’s dismissive response. Perhaps she is thinking of her own position, uncertain as to whether or not to leave her family behind in the States and travel to Europe in search of a life of more consequence. Catharine does strike out on her own, but the fictional Laurencina does not; further down the page, she takes up knitting, performing in the act an acceptance of Durrain’s ideas about the role of women. As the story concludes, Laurencina continues her performance of contentment at family dinner that night:

“Charles Durrain asked to be remembered, Papa,” Laurencina said.

“Oh, he was here- again. I should like to see him. You ought to marry him, Laurencina.”

Laurencina moved her plate a little. She felt very tired. Edith was speaking in her kind, high voice. 

“Oh, Laurencina is so hard to please.”

 Laurencina made an effort and smiled a little.

There the story ends, with Laurencina more desolate than before following her failure to find sympathy and understanding in Durrain. The manuscript bears marks of the editing process, presumably by the hand of Catharine herself, crossing out phrases and inserting others. Perhaps the piece is a work in progress, though it seems unlikely that Catharine had any intent to publish or further refine her work. Her writing style is rather unpolished, aiming for the Whartonian undertones her sister-in-law captures so evocatively, but not quite hitting the mark. She tends to tell rather than show, and it’s all just a bit cliché and melodramatic: “In the narrow mirrors as she passed- Laurencina saw her face- it seemed to her that a strange, beautiful woman looked at her sorrowfully.” Nonetheless, Catharine’s goal of momentary amusement for her audience was well met in the brief glimpse she provides into the drama of Laurencina’s personal life and psyche. Catharine crafts a compelling narrative of her protagonist’s complicated relationship with Durrain and struggle to assert herself within the societal constraints that would limit women to marriage and household duties. In the thousands of letters we’ve yet to read, perhaps we’ll come across Gladys’ response to Catharine, and discover her reactions, encouragements, criticisms, or praises of her sister-in-law’s work.

Sources

Bastek, Stephanie. “Neglected Books Revisited, Part 2.” The American Scholar, Phi Beta Kappa, 11 Aug. 2020, theamericanscholar.org/neglected-books-revisited-part-2/.

Cohen, Bernard. “Madame Solario Tout Un Roman.” Libération, Libération, 7 Nov. 2009, www.liberation.fr/culture/2009/11/07/madame-solario-tout-un-roman_592310/.

“G.P. Putnam's Sons Records, 1891-1937: Rare Book & Manuscript Library, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.” G.P. Putnam's Sons Records, 1891-1937 | Rare Book & Manuscript Library, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, The University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, archives.library.illinois.edu/rbml/?p=collections%2Ffindingaid&id=943&q=&rootcontentid=90949.

Joyce, James, Gilbert, Stuart, & Ellmann, Richard. (1966). Letters of James Joyce (New ed., with corrections..). Viking Press.

McCarthy, Desmond. “Drama Inexperienced and Expert.” The New Statesman. 20 December 1924.

“Sensation Gets an Author.” Life, 18 Mar. 1957, pp. 125.

"Natural working of the carnal and unrenewed heart"

Moses “Charles” Porter Phelps sat down in 1857, the same year he passed away, to compose his autobiography. He wrote,

“The unsteadiness of my brain and the tremulousness of my eyes have prevented me from making much progress in the memoranda… and as the difficulty seems to have increased considerably within the last two or three weeks, I may probably be unable to enter into any minute or regular details of incidents that occured in our family history subsequent to the birth of Edward…” (32)

But in the eloquent accounts that follow, Charles still found a place for heartfelt remembrances of the two most beloved women in his life - his first wife, Sarah Parsons, and his mother, Elizabeth Porter Phelps. Sarah was described with grey eyes, “rather mild than piercing, and the combined expression of her countenance indicating at once the soundness of her understanding, and the tenderness of her heart.” (79) Elizabeth, though not of the same “strong and vigorous” intellectual powers, “was a most indefatigable reader.” And as her son remembered best, Elizabeth’s “religion was deep seated in the heart, and [she] was rigidly Calvinistic, as was then the prevailing creed of all New England.” (83)

In his final days, Phelps wondered whether his mother - and resultantly, he too - were governed by an oppressively incomplete image of God. “I think she must have viewed the power and sovereignty of GOD as overshadowing all his attributes of Love and Mercy” (83). The threatening image of a God who only judged and destroyed still lingered from his upbringing, and he had no doubt that in his mother’s adulthood, the same “shade of gloom often overspread the usually bright and cheering prospects of [her] religious experience.” A dutiful follower of preached Christian principles, she was impeccably kind and careful in her speech, but perhaps easily burdened by self-criticism and fear of retribution. “In mixed society she was cautious and guarded in her conversation, and I never heard her speak evil of any one. The law of kindness dwelt always upon her lips.” (83)

            Charles recalled his earliest idea of God as “all powerful, angry - and world hating.” But his knowledge of the Bible, the story of Christ’s sacrificial love… didn’t match up.

“And yet this was the Being required to love — a Being who, with such conceptions as I could then form of him, I could not possibly regard except in the light of an enemy, who was ready with uplifted arm to crush and destroy me.” (84)

Taking his sister’s lead in the 1820s, Phelps had converted to Unitarianism, where he found a fresh lens through which he could consider God and the Bible. Unitarianism distinguished each part of the Holy Trinity as completely separate entities, sometimes defining Jesus as a son, but not a part of God the Father. Still, Charles sought and struggled to define a God that would give him hope. He continued,

 “Indeed such is the image, which even to this day is very apt to rise spontaneously in my mind when the thought of God presents itself. The reasoning faculty may do much to produce true and correct results at last, but I have to this day found it impossible wholly to obliterate the deep impression made upon me by the teachings, feelings, and associations of my early youth. And even now, when standing on the verge of life, a cloud of doubt and despondency often settles down on the mental vision — and almost for the time, extinguishes every hope that the Gospel would inspire.——— But perhaps all this may be only the natural working of the carnal and unrenewed heart.” (84)

Like his mother’s later diary entries, Charles’ autobiography served as a space for some of the most challenging and time-ripened reflections. He grappled with the dichotomy between persistent fears of a hateful judgment and that “very hope that the Gospel would inspire.”

---

Click to peruse thoughts from Elizabeth’s diaries at In Elizabeth’s Words, learn about Charles Phelps, or read about Charles’ property established across from Forty Acres at Phelps Farm.

Sources

Phelps, Charles (Moses) Porter, Autobiography (1857) Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers Box 10 Folder 21 Amherst College Archives and Special Collections

Biographical sketch of (Moses) Charles Porter Phelps, Finding Aid, Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers. 1987-88.

Reflections from David Mack Goode Huntington

David Mack Goode Huntington, born December 18th, 1926, is the great, great, great, great grandson of Moses and Elizabeth Porter who, in 1752, built what is now the Porter-Phelps-Huntington Museum. For six generations, the family lived in and later summered in this Hadley home, and today, descendants like David, are involved in the museum and keep the history of the family alive. From transcribing his father’s diaries to donating to the museum’s collections, David has played a large role in preserving his family’s history. David’s father, Michael Paul St. Agnan Huntington (known as Paul) was born in Malden, Massachusetts on August 26, 1882. Paul was the fourth son of George Putnam and Lily St. Agnan Barrett Huntington. Paul’s older brother (David’s uncle), Dr. James Lincoln Huntington, opened the Porter-Phelps-Huntington Museum and gave tours here until his death in 1968.

Although David was born in Delaware, grew up in New York, and went to school in Massachusetts, he writes in his book, Hadley Memories, “underneath it all, my place will always be this piece of land along the Connecticut River known as Hadley.” Despite not growing up in Hadley, the home his great, great, great, grandparents built still holds a special place. Like his father and grandfather, David spent time at the ‘old house’, as he calls it, during his summers as a child.

Now retired, he spent fifteen years in administrative post at Harvard and the University of Chicago, and more than twenty as executive director of what is now the Greater Milwaukee Foundation. David is the author of two books, Hadley Memories, and First Flight and Other Stories, both of which are available for purchase at the Porter-Phelps-Huntington Museum.

Recently, David shared this piece of prose with the museum and we want to share it with you:

A week of Preparations for the Huntington Family Thanksgiving

Theodore G. Huntington

Theodore Huntington, the eighth child of Dan and Elizabeth Huntington's eleven, was born March 18, 1813 in Middletown, Connecticut. At the age of three, he moved with the family to Hadley. Shortly before his death in 1885, Theodore wrote a collection of reminisences he called "Sketches of Family Life in Hadley". Below are excerpts from his writings describing the extravagant Huntington Family Thanksgiving and its week-long   preparations. 

MONDAY:

“Monday was devoted, of course, to the weekly washing and nothing must interfere with that. Tuesday was the great day for the making of pies of which there were from thirty to fifty baked in the great oven that crackled and roared right merrily in anticipation [of the rich medley that was being made ready for its capacious maw.” (34)

1799 Kitchen

TUESDAY:

"Two kinds of apple pies, two of pumpkin, rice and cranberry made out the standard list to which additions were sometimes made. Then in our younger days we children had each a patty of his own. These were made in tins of various shapes of which was had our choice, as well as of the material of which our respective pies should be composed.” (34)

1797 Kitchen

WEDNESDAY:

“Wednesday was devoted to chicken pies and raised cake. The making of the latter was a critical operation. If I mistake not it was begun on Monday. I believe the conditions must be quite exact to have the yeast perform its work perfectly in the rich conglomerated mass. In due time the cake is finished. The chicken pies are kept in the oven so as to have them still not at the supper. The two turkeys have been made ready for the spit; the kitchen cleared of every vestige of the great carnival that has resigned for the last two days and there is a profound pause for an hour or two before the scene opens.” (34)

Dining Room

THURSDAY:

"I remember once quite a sensation was produced in the little crowd because brother Theophilus lost his balance and for want of a chair to break his fall, sat down on one of the smoking hot pies! After cooling and sorting, the precious delicacies were put away into the large closets in the front entry of hall which the foot of tho small boy was not permitted to profune. “(34)

“There was still a more primitive way of roasting turkey and one which was resorted to sometimes when our family was at the largest. Room was made at one end of the ample fireplace and the turkey was suspended by the legs from the ceiling where was a contrivance to keep the string turning, and of course, with it the turkey. On the hearth was a dish to catch the drippings and with then the meat was occasionally basted. The thing is accomplished much more easily now, but at an expense I imagine in the quality of the work. “ (35) 

To read more of Theodore's recollections, follow the top link below to his sketches as well as the link to Theodore at the Amherst Archives in the bottom link!

 Sketches by Theodore G. Huntington of the Family and Life in Hadley, written in letters to H.F. Quincy.

http://asteria.fivecolleges.edu/findaids/amherst/ma30_odd.html#odd-tgh   

A Quote from Arria Sargent Huntington

Arria Sargent Huntington was the daughter of Hannah Dane Sargent and Fredric Dan Huntington. Her book, Under a Colonial Roof-Tree: Fireside Chronicles of Early New England, was completed in 1891. Throughout the one hundred and sixty four pages, Arria shares historical details and descriptions of both her family and the area surrounding her family’s home, Forty Acres. On page six, Arria describes the founding of Hadley and what the settlers found when they reached the area. She writes, 

A mountain chain rises here abruptly from the meadow-land, closing in the rich interval. The Connecticut, in its southward course, before entering the narrow opening between opposite peaks, takes a sweep through a broad basin, which, long before the memory of man, was washed by alluvial deposits. Natural terraces rise from the bank to wooded highlands east and west. Even when encircled by primeval forest, this open valley must have had its own charm for those who recalled the peaceful scenery of Old England.

Arria’s poetic words demonstrate her admiration of the natural beauty that her ancestors settled. Her description of Hadley ties together many points in the land’s history, from the prehistoric glaciers, to the old growth forests. This passage also unites the experiences of all people who have seen Hadley, from the first people to inhabit the land, to those who remember “Old England,” to Arria’s own generation, and even visitors to the Pioneer Valley today. While the landscape of Hadley has certainly changed, its beauty continues to impress those who are able to experience it.

Words of the week: Elizabeth Pitkin Porter's letter to Moses

While the Porter-Phelps-Huntington house is full of countless objects owned by different generations of the family, what brings the house even more vividly to life are the stories of the people who owned these objects--as captured in their letters, diaries, and other writings. We get a sense of Elizabeth Pitkin Porter’s personality, for instance, in a letter written to her husband Moses Porter on August 9, 1755, while he was stationed in upstate New York during the Seven Years’ War. Her expressive words reveal not only her fondness for her husband, but also the power and pleasure she derived from writing. She confides:

“I am glad to hear that you received my scrawls for I am apt to please my self that you took some delight in reading what I took a maloncolly [sic] satisfaction in writing. I read yours over and over and take more pleasure therein than in any worldly thing. But there is something wanting. I long to see you and to hear that pleasant noise which would refresh me more than wine.”

Tragically, Moses never read Elizabeth’s affectionate words; he was killed defending a British fort from French attack just three days before her letter arrived, and Elizabeth never remarried. However, we are fortunate to have an archival record of their correspondence, because it grants us insight into the nature of their relationship, and into the effects that historical conflicts like the Seven Years’ War had on families’ lives.

For more about Elizabeth Pitkin Porter’s correspondence with her husband Moses, visit our collections page.