Genteel Pagan: The Double Life of Charles Warren Stoddard (35 page)

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Authors: Roger Austen

Tags: #Biography & Autobiography, #General, #Literary Criticism, #Gay & Lesbian, #test

BOOK: Genteel Pagan: The Double Life of Charles Warren Stoddard
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Page 120
Millet, who by 1889 had been married for ten years. With his wife and three children, he was living in an artists' colony at Broadway, a picturesque, almost medieval hamlet in the green hills of Worcestershire. "There are to be athletic sports in the field back of our house on Wednesday," Millet's invitation had promised.
23
Stoddard was less interested in the sports than in seeing Frank again and in meeting Edwin Abbey and the other artists who lived nearby.
Broadway had recently been described, in the June issue of
Harper's,
by Henry James, whom Stoddard had hoped to meet in England.
24
He had admired
The Portrait of a Lady
when he read it in Hawaii; and, in addition to Millet, the two writers had many other friends in common, such as Story, Howells. Stevenson, Eugene Benson, and "Dudee" Fletcher. The question that remained unanswered, as Stoddard arrived in England, was whether or not James had any desire to meet
him.
Sharply aware of everyone's credentials, James was no doubt persuaded that, from both a social and a literary point of view, Stoddard was his inferior. At any rate, they did not meet that summer; and when they did some years later, it was to be under the most peculiar circumstances.
After sailing with the Vails to New York, Stoddard went immediately to Covington, where he began work on his lectures. The university was not to open until November-the construction of Caldwell Hall was still in progress-and so Stoddard had some extra time. Father Hudson, kind and generous as always, was sending him a great number of books from the Notre Dame library. "I must read or own a hundred such volumes," Stoddard wrote. "I must know the minds of the best men on the topics I shall have to talk about."
25
This time Stoddard was determined to succeed, if for no other reason than that, should he fail, he had no idea where he would go or what he would do.
 
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9
Although convinced that its night air was malarial, Stoddard found Washington to be at least tolerable and sometimes quite pleasant. Its snowy winters were "majestic" and its spring foliage "enchanting," with the magnolias "glorifying all the beautiful squares."
1
Stoddard soon discovered some special haunts: the "Log Cabin," where he could eat lunch for twenty-five cents; Brentano's, where he was always buying books; the theaters and music halls, where he saw most of the production companies that passed through town. He also established a small circle of friends in Washington: people who tended to be wealthy, literary, and overwhelmingly hospitable. As usual, he cared little for politics, even though he was frequently meeting congressmen and prominent government officials. On 8 November 1892, he did note in his diary that it was Election Day, but then he added, ''Thank God we know little of it heresave from the chatter at the table. I'll be glad when the whole thing is over."
In those days the Catholic University, three miles north of downtown, was in the countryside, the tiny campus perched on a hillside across from the sprawling grounds of the Soldier's Home. Situated so loftily, Stoddard's corner windows in Caldwell Hall commanded a sweeping
 
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view. His rooms, the very ones that Bishop Keane had promised him in Rome, were soon converted into a "cozy den," where everything was exotically atmospheric and artistically arranged. The curtains at his double west window were Turkish, those at the south window were Madras grass cloth, and those in his bedroom were "Damascene"all overhung by several large East Indian fans, some of them perfumed. Then there were his books (hundreds of them), his piano, his precious statuette of Saint Anthony, his rocking chair, and lots of ferns, palms, and Japanese lily bulbs, along with fresh flowers in season. Autographed pictures of actors and writers, friends and relations were strategically placed, with special prominence given to one of Tom Cleary. Before long Stoddard's quarters became legendary. Guests touring the building would often knock on his door for a peek at the curios of this unusual professor who was becoming something of a curio himself. Everyone else at the university, including both the other faculty members and the young men who were studying for graduate degrees in theology, was a priest. Surrounded by men in cassocks and birettas, Stoddard stood out with his dandified wardrobe and his neatly trimmed mustache and beard.
I
During his first several years at Catholic University, Stoddard managed to get along fairly well with his colleagues. Bishop Keane remained a dependable friend, and in 1892 he gave Stoddard an eight-hundred-dollar raise, bringing his yearly salary to well over two thousand dollars. Almost every night after supper, Stoddard would join the other instructors in the billiard room (although he did not care to play himself), and listen to them exclaiming in Latin, Italian, and French. The small faculty was united in the face of all the troubles that were threatening their school; for it soon became obvious that not all Catholics in America wished this university well.
The Jesuits at Georgetown were a little troubled and suspicious, having heard rumors that Bishop Keane wanted to appropriate their medical and law schools. More important, the new university was caught in the cross fire between the opposing camps of American Catholicism.
2
On one side were the "liberals," many of them Irish, who believed in Americanizing the church, in cooperating to some extent with Protestants, and in abstaining totally from drink. Bishop Keane was a "lib-
 
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eral." On the other side were the "conservatives," many of them German, who, under the banner of Cahenslyism, argued vociferously that the German-American parishes should remain Germanic and that, while the Irish might not be able to hold their whiskey, the Germans were quite able to hold their beer. The conservatives opposed Keane and his university, and a split developed on the staff when Professors Schroeder and Pohle sided with the Cahenslyists. A "liberal'' insofar as he was loyal to Bishop Keane, Stoddard otherwise did not take sides in the controversy. On 6 October 1892, he noted that the "German element" was being forced out of the house, commenting: "This would have scandalized me once; now, thank God, it has little or no effect on me." He remembered from Notre Dame how petty some Catholic officials could be, and he was relieved to think that, in this particular battle, he might remain uninvolved and unscathed.
At first Stoddard felt slightly intimidated by his students, these intense, serious young priests, all of whom had a better formal education than he. "I do not hope for the responsiveness I found in the young hearts at Notre Dame!" he wrote in November 1889. "Here I must work alone and for a company of priests who have already been in the pulpit and who have no doubt been looked up to as instructors by their several flocks."
3
Some of his students had actually been college professors themselves, and Stoddard worked hard to keep ahead of them. By the end of the first year, he felt his efforts were beginning to be appreciated. His lectures, which former students remembered as "beautiful and distinguished," sometimes evoked appreciative laughter and hearty applause.
4
Outside the classroom, however, most of the students remained comparatively reserved. They did not drop by his room at all hours for a smoke or a shot of whiskey, as the "boys" had done at Notre Dame. Their distance did not prevent Stoddard from falling in love, of course, but it did seem to prevent him from being loved in return. There was apparently to be no Tom Cleary for him at Caldwell Hall.
Stoddard often brooded about lacking a "Kid," and he prayed daily that God would send someone to his rescue. For a time he enjoyed the close companionship of "Davy" O'Hearn of Milwaukee; but after Father O'Hearn left Washington in 1892, Stoddard felt more alone than ever. Stoddard behaved himself so well at Caldwell Hall that, as he lamented, "How can one find anything to confess in the life we lead here?" (D 23 Dec. 1892). He concluded that if he were ever going to find a "Kid," it was not going to be at the university. In downtown Wash-
 
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ington, the good-looking young men, not having taken vows of chastity, were more approachable. "The town is full of attractions," he sighed. "I never go into it but my heart yearns now and again."
Representative of Stoddard's state of mind and of his characteristic behavior is his diary entry for Tuesday, 22 November 1892. That day he had lectured on Margaret Fullernot well, he fearedand he was feeling lonely. "If Davy O'Hearn were only here," he thought, "what a blessing it would be!" At about seven o'clock he took the streetcar downtown. He was carrying his opera glass because he was going to Metzerott's Music Hall to hear Master Cyril Tyler, "The Wonderful Boy Soprano.'' After a bite of hash at the "Log Cabin," he arrived at the concert hall, found his seat in the gallery, and began observing the audience. A young man rushed to greet another young man, who turned out to be someone he knew. It was Frank Blodgett, a strangely magnetic homosexual who was studying for the priesthood in Maryland, and who owed Stoddard five dollars. "What is it," Stoddard wondered, "in this extremely plain, vain,to me disagreeableperson that casts a spell over lads who come under his influence? . . . He has a head, face and expression such as one would . . .  usually expect to see in an Insane Asylum." Stoddard was relieved to turn his attention to Master Tyler as the curtain went up. Great things were expected of this twelve-year-old prodigy, whom the program notes compared to Jenny Lind and Mme Patti.
5
But Stoddard thought the boy's voice was "rather thin" and that he squealed on the high notes. Nevertheless he purchased a photograph of the singer during intermission to add to his collection. After the concert, another purchase was madea flask of whiskey, which was a regular part of an evening in town. Taking the ten o'clock streetcar, he enjoyed the ride out to the university, cold as it was. By the time the car got to Brookland, all the lights were out in Caldwell Hall. In his room he opened the flask and drank alone. He had seen enough that night to make his heart yearn again, and the whiskey was "consolation," as he called it, "for the darkness of the house." By midnight he was in bed.
II
Fortunately, there were attractions of another sort in town that did not leave Stoddard so wistful and despairing. These were the friends he had made: interesting, wealthy, accomplished persons, whose invitations to
 
Page 125
lunch or tea or supper helped to stimulate him. One of them was Henry Adams, whom he met through Theodore Dwight his second day in town. Through Adams, Stoddard met John Hay, his next-door neighbor on Lafayette Square, the artist John LaFarge, and Theodore Roosevelt, whom Stoddard did not care for. Then, too, there were William Phillips and Tom Lee who, along with Stoddard, were regarded by Adams as his "three lunatics." These two loved "fishing, hunting, and tramping about in strange woods"; and although Adams sometimes joined them on these outings, Stoddard either was not invited or did not care to engage in the strenuous life.
6
Stoddard did enjoy the afternoon when Phillips took him to Adams's house to meet "Prince" Tati Salmon of Tahiti. When he happened to be in town, Adams often wrote Stoddard oddly worded, brittle notesinvitations to dine, usuallyand he seemed to enjoy Stoddard's company. Both men were often overwhelmed, for different reasons, by a sense of
fin de siècle
gloom, and they discovered that in their lunatic moods they were able to cheer each other up.
Other friends in Washington at this time included five women, three of them writers of some renown. The oldest was Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, who had been churning out melodramatic novels since Stoddard's childhood. He had always been fond of her books, and he grew to be fond of her as well. "Why have you never married?" she once asked him. The explanation that he snored did not satisfy her. "But why should you be lonely," she persisted, "when so many warm-hearted men andwhat is better stillso many sweet women love you so truly and so purely?"
7
Stoddard also called on Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett in her stately home on Massachusetts Avenue. He was struck by her handsome son, Vivian, whom Reginald Birch had used as his model when he illustrated
Little Lord Fauntleroy
(1886). Stoddard's other writer friend in Washington, Kate Field, was quite as androgynous as he, but she was his opposite in nearly every other respect. She edited
Kate Field's Washington,
in which she crusaded for feminism, cremation, anti-Mormonism, and a number of other causes. Aware of her own sexual makeup, she apparently understood Stoddard's too; and from her suite in the Shoreham Hotel, she often wrote him notes of crisp advice. "Too bad you are still unwell," read one of them. "If you lived more in harmony with your nature, you'd be better, but it's useless to wrestle with such a distorted being as you are. . . . Eat beef and drink a pint of hot water one hour before every meal. Stop smoking cigarettes and limit yourself to three cigars a day after meals. Of course you won't.''
8

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