I am a ghost. It has been over a 100 years since my children were born. They are ghosts as well.

           You might find me wandering about the novels of Henry James, Wallace Stegner & Mary Hallock Foote.

You might find me in art museums, in works by Winslow Homer, August Saint-Gardens, and Cecilia Beaux.

And through the poems of my Richard and Helen Hunt Jackson. Richard’s first book of poetry was mine to design and decorate.

           There are others. My artwork has almost vanished from the earth. I wander through everyone’s biographies. I kept all their letters. And I took their hands and comforted every one of them

Prologue      

              Swordplay was a lifelong interest of Charles De Kay. He became an accomplished fencer later in life. At twelve, it was a pointed picket fence slat, shortened, with a wooden cross piece nailed on to make a handle guard. He had talked his family’s handyman into making two of them. He had found an old barrel lid with a handle and that worked pretty well as a shield, but he only had one.

               Usually, he would be out behind the big house in Newport in the summer still pretending that he and a playmate were knights on a crusade. One afternoon, none of his friends were around and he was out there by himself, halfheartedly vanquishing the evil knights. Helena brought him some lemonade. It was hot and the bees were buzzing about the peonies.

               “I could take you on in a swordfight,” Helena told him. She was two years older, but they were the same size.

               “You’re a girl,” he told her.

               “Try me. I think you’re chicken.”

               “You won’t last very long,” he said.

               “You are chicken,” she repeated.

               “All right.” He handed her the second sword.

               “Well, this isn’t fair. How am I supposed to fight in a dress?”

               “I don’t know,”

               “You loan me a pair of your breeches, and I’ll give you a run for your money.”

               He thought this over.

               “Ok.”

               They went upstairs and he handed her a pair from his closet. He went back out again to the backyard. He didn’t quite believe she would come down wearing his pants. She finally appeared. She had devised a cord as a belt to hold them up. She had twisted her hair into a bun.

               “En guard,” she hollered. She came after him swinging.

               They parried, and clashed swords. He was stronger and knocked her off balance a bit, but she kept coming back for more. The first time he really hit her, he expected her to cry out and run off. But she got mad instead.

               “Out scoundrel!” she yelled and came after him.

                They stopped for more lemonade. As they started again, their older sister came out of the house. Julia was eighteen and an expert on everything.

               “Stop!” she shouted. “What on earth are you doing?”

                Charles wasn’t sure how to answer her.

               “What does it look like we are doing?” Helena asked.

                “You look absurd,” her sister told her. “Next you will grow a moustache and start smoking cigars?”

               Helena wanted to cry.

               “Go take those off immediately! You want me to tell Mother?”

               Helena ran into the house. She took them off in her room and climbed back into the dress she had been wearing. Taking her hair down again, she was so aggravated and tearful, she couldn’t bring herself to brush it out. She threw the breeches into her brother’s open door and escaped back to her own room. A minute later there was a tap at her door. It was Charles. He handed her the breeches.

               “They smell funny now,” he said. “You can keep them.”

               Later that afternoon, she wrapped them in paper and carried them down and out to the compost pile back by the shed. She didn’t think anyone noticed. She raked a hole in the pile and carefully covered them over.

 

Chapter One

               Their studio was quite chaotic. Helena and Richard had just been married two days before and she had come straight from her family’s house on Staten Island. “The Studio,” as it would be called later on, was a carriage house whose second and third floor had been warehouse space. 103 East Fifteenth Street, New York City. The bottom floor was a stable. They were going to live here.  Wedding presents were still sitting about in the wrappings – a ribbon dangling here and there. Richard had managed to hang the hammock that Thomas Moran had given them.  Helena stretched out there for a breather. She was sweaty and a bit dusty.

               It was June of 1874. She had just turned 28. The city was hot and humid and all of her windows were open, but she was hardly a washerwoman who would tuck up her skirts. She was considered old money and probably Dutch. She had grown up in Oyster Bay, Dresden, and Newport and spoke French and German. She painted and had studied at The Cooper Union and The National Academy. Sharing with her friend Maria Oakey, they had been the first independent women artists in the city to set up their own studio and entertain there.

               Helena was very beautiful, with fine peachy skin and thick auburn hair. And when she smiled and her eyes lit up, everyone was in love with her. She knew how to wield that power. She had pulled a large drawing journal from her belongings and had it sitting in her lap. In their two days, in lieu of a real honeymoon, they had been writing letters to their family and friends, with imaginary stops and all they saw on their imaginary honeymoon. They weren’t really going to mail them to anyone. It had then occurred to her that they could keep a journal of their life together. They could both write in it. And answer each other back. This journal had been acquired for that kind of idea long ago, but she had never used it. She might have written a little in it.

               On the first page, dated April 3^rd, 1870 was written: “She was to me a passion.” That was the only entry. Henry James had written her that Minnie had just died.

               Helena hadn’t seen her friend Minnie since she came to New York City to attend classes at The Cooper Union. She had learned from Henry that Minnie had developed consumption. Minnie’s parents had died from it, which had left her and her sister orphans and in the care of the James family in Newport. Minnie’s older sister didn’t like what had taken place between Minnie and Helena and refused to mail or pass letters between them.

               When Helena was 15 and Minnie was 16, they were roommates at the boarding school for young ladies in Farmington. They would lie in bed at night and read and whisper out loud to each other late into the night. Minnie would curl up under her arm with her head on Helena’s shoulder. Minnie could have passed for a skinny boy, she wasn’t very curvy. Helena knew better though. They thought different thoughts and held dangerous ideas. They believed in ‘The New Man’ and ‘The New Woman!’ It was a small school with only twenty girls. They had eyes only for each other. The other girls were quick to judge and quick to disparage how they acted.

               They didn’t kiss in public. They would hold hands on a stroll, but the other girls did that too.

               The literature teacher, Miss Fanny, didn’t like the way they argued with her, joining forces together over what they were reading. Their questioning also seemed rather out of line with common Christian beliefs. The little minister with the bald head who came on Sundays also complained to the headmaster. They giggled during prayers.

               When called into Miss Margaret’s office, Helena had led the charge over Miss Fanny’s bigotry and narrowmindedness.  Both of them were warned about their attitude and behavior. Helena wasn’t sure exactly when Miss Margaret’s letters were written, before or after, Minnie’s drastic measure. The Headmistress sent off scathing letters to Helena’s mother and Minnie’s uncle threatening expulsion if steps weren’t taken.

               Minnie, alone in their room, took scissors to her hair and cut it all off. It was as short as a boy’s. This wasn’t at all like what the heroine of Little Women did in the book that was published years later. Helena understood exactly what she did. Minnie was to be her husband.

               Then a scathing letter came from Helena’s mother. Helena could recall that last letter word for word.

               “I am disappointed my daughter. Why would you forget your Christian education to behave with Minnie as you have this term…You are doing a wrong and dangerous thing in your passion for this girl…Bring everything home because you’ll not return,”[1]

               And Minnie’s uncle came to the school to have a discussion with all parties. He was outraged by the haircut. Minnie came back flushed, not quite knowing whether to cry or giggle insanely. Her Uncle, Henry James Sr., was an incredibly pompous ass.

               They didn’t return the next semester. But that didn’t matter. They were neighbors in Newport and could see each other whenever they wanted. Helena and her sister Julia and their mother were living with Helena’s oldest sister, Catherine and her husband and their baby, in their large house there.

               Helena and Minnie would meet in Uncle Henry’s kitchen for a late brunch and venture off into the small village and the seacoast in their usual breezy manner. They picnicked at the Cliffs, strolled the Point among the quaint old streets lined with elms.  There were fishermen and artists living next door to each other. Boats could be had for sailing.

               Henry Jr. came home from Harvard after failing there. It was understood just by his embarrassment. He followed them around like a puppy dog. He was a couple of years older, but immediately played Helena’s little cousin without the slightest coaxing. She couldn’t help but pet everyone that came close. She would smooth his windblown hair.  Stroke his brow if his head ended up in her lap. Minnie was more often in her lap, however.

               Helena knew he loved Minnie and was jealous of the girls’ affection towards one another. He desperately wanted to be included. She tried to coax him into a dress one late morning at the James’ house when no one else was home and his face reddened with fear.  She quickly offered him into a wide flowery bonnet instead. To protect him from the sun.

               “To wear out?” he cried.

               He was still horrified. She wished there was a way to make him happy but somehow knew that he might never be.

               There was a painting of him at sixteen in John La Farge’s studio down the street that stayed with her. La Farge took a great interest in him. But the painting seemed to Helena to be so hungry somehow. Both he and his older brother were taking painting lessons from La Farge right now. Helena was ready to start too, but she was told there were no openings at present.

               Henry wrote about that summer. He recalled the walks by the sea. Minnie’s “grace of free mobility and activity, as original and unconventional as it was carelessly natural”[2] “She was part of the laughter on the wide verandahs of the cottages whose doors and windows stood open. On Saturday nights there were dances in the hotel, the Ocean House, its terrace filled with rocking chairs and girls swaying in cool white dresses.”[3]

               New York and Boston families rented cottages in the summers. Helena and her sister and mother had come from Dresden to help Helena’s oldest sister with her first baby. Her brothers had gone off to fight in the war.  Henry Jr. didn’t go because of his accident, but also because he was only sixteen. There were parties for the teenagers. Minnie played piano like a maniac. Helena got to know Emma Beach from New York, who, besides having a perfect button nose, was turning red at trying not to laugh at Minnie’s playing. She grew even redder when Helena told her not to laugh.

               Minnie and Helena studied Dante with a poor timid professor and browbeat him piteously. Emma was incensed with them for their cruelty. Miss Beach was probably the very first true angel Helena had ever met.

               Helena and her mother and sister eventually moved to Staten Island, so that Helena could start at Cooper Union. The Jameses moved to Boston, taking their orphan nieces with them.

               When Richard, her new husband returned, he found her in the hammock with tears on her cheek.

               “Are you alright?”

               “Minnie,” she said, handing him the open journal. “I loved her so much.”

               She looked into his large brown gentle eyes. She still needed to talk him into trimming his moustache.

               “This is quite an undertaking, Mr. Gilder,” she said. She was a bit embarrassed she hadn’t gotten more done.

               “Dinner?” he asked, offering his hand. There was a hotel café close by.

               Minnie and Helena and Henry had come to the city to visit Helena’s sister-in-law. Helena’s twenty-seven-year old brother was stationed in Washington DC.  This was 1863, in the middle of the Civil War. There was to be a great ‘Peace Convention’ held in the basement auditorium at Cooper Union. The Congressman Fernando Wood had organized it. There was to be a number of speakers, all in favor of getting out of the war. They had convinced Lisa, Helena’s older sister-in-law, that it would be educational. Henry was to escort them. He was twenty now. Minnie was eighteen. Helena seventeen. The hall was overflowing with a lot of working class white folks, mostly Irish, Helena concluded. There were only two other women present in the crowd of two hundred. Wood had been Mayor of New York City for a couple of terms. He was a Democrat. When the war started he wanted New York City to secede from the Union. The war wasn’t going well now and Lincoln’s government had started a draft for more soldiers.

               They couldn’t find seats. It was very hot and sweaty, they were crowded in with everyone. Wood started it off, decrying that the Republicans were going to free all the slaves and they would flood the city with blacks and take everyone’s jobs. The war was a rich man’s war. They could buy their way out of being drafted if they didn’t want to go. There were plenty of penniless Irish that would be forced to go and die just to support their families. And they were hoping to pay even less to the ex-slaves that would be taking everybody’s jobs.

               Minnie eyed her friend. Helena nodded and they both worked their way out of the hall. It took forever. Back out on the sidewalk, it was still hot and muggy, but there were few people around. They waited for Henry to catch up with them. They both sighed in relief and walked arm in arm toward her brother’s house. Henry walked beside them on the curb side. Helena grabbed his arm as well.

               “And all the soldiers that have died and been wounded!” Minnie said. “Wilkie and Bob are fighting in the Union army. We are all so worried”

               Henry wouldn’t look at them. She was talking about his brothers.

               “I lost my older brother in New Orleans last year,” Helena said softly. “He was an artist. He was studying in Dresden. How dare they talk about war as if it is all about money! ”

               “Oh god, I’m so sorry, Helena.”

               “I miss him so much. He was just a few years older than me. He was my playmate!”

               Helena wiped her eyes.

               “How dare they!”

               A candle had been left burning in the parlor at her brother’s house. They came in quietly and went upstairs. There was a new baby in the house who they didn’t want to awaken.

               “Are you awake?” Minnie asked.

               “Yes,” Helena whispered.

               The room was very dark. Helena turned over and spooned with her friend.

               Minnie giggled.

               “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

               “I can make you really giggle,” Helena whispered.

               “Oh no!”

               Helena started tickling her.

               “Oh god, stop!” Minnie twisted. “I’ll scream!”

               “Go right ahead!”

               Minnie climbed on top of her and held her hands down.

               “You are just a weak spoiled city girl,”

               “You are too now,” Helena told her.

               “I’m going to make you practice for your wedding day.”

               “Yum.”

               Minnie bent and kissed her warmly. Her friend welcomed her tongue. Knees moved. It was as if they were tied together in their bedclothes.

               The girls were up early and had made themselves toast and tea. Helena’s sister-in-law was nursing the baby and Henry hadn’t come down yet.

               “What really happened?” Helena asked. “To Henry?”

               “No one talks about it, not even him.” Minnie said. “He was volunteering for the fire brigade. You remember the house on Church Street that went up a couple of years ago? He hurt his private parts. Alice, his sister, whispered it to me one afternoon. He was in bed for quite a while afterward.”

               “Oh dear,” Helena said. “So it’s not just an excuse.”

               “Well, it might be that too.”

               Henry finally came down. They fed him and went up to finish getting ready to go out. They were all invited for lunch at the New York house of Emma Beach, Helena’s new friend, the angel. Her father was a newspaper publisher here in the city.

               They started on foot back toward the Cooper Union building where they had been the night before. It was on the way to Emma’s house. Something very odd was happening. There was a large group of working type men and women walking northward on Second and Third Avenues away from Cooper Union. Some of the women were carrying babies. They were stopping at shops and factories and bringing others already out with them. And they were all armed. Men were carrying clubs and iron bars. The sight of a revolver in one man’s belt sent the girls and Henry running into the Cooper Union building. It was open.

               “It has to be the draft lottery!” Helena gasped.

               They hurried inside. The usual hubbub of the students arriving and disappearing into classrooms wasn’t happening. They didn’t see any instructors and there were only a few students present, trying to figure out what to do. The students were confused and all of them were frightened. One lady wondered out loud if they should be standing in the lobby. Someone might see them from outside. Then they heard the gun shots.

               “Should we go back to my brother’s house?” Helena said. “Or to Emma’s?”

               “Well, the closest place is Emma’s house. We may have to walk. I didn’t see any carriages or streetcars,” Minnie said.

               “We can walk,” Henry said. “We will just stay away from the crowds.”

               One of the female students offered to bring them home with her.

               “Our friend will take us in.” Minnie told her.

               Helena took Minnie’s arm and Henry took Helena’s and they left. They thought to try to walk around the center of whatever was happening, so they turned west rather than try a direct route. There was no transportation anywhere. Down toward Third Avenue where the lottery office was, there came echoes of crashing things and gunfire. Then smoke rising as if something big was on fire. They walked quickly. No one seemed to be paying them any attention. There were still people out, heading toward the smoke.

               They turned a corner and there were a thousand people storming the gates of the four-story Colored Orphan Asylum. They were throwing rocks and trying to ram down the big gates in front. It would be only minutes before they were through the wrought iron.

               “This way,” Henry dragged the girls away. There were injured Negro men sprawled in their blood on the street. Four, then five of them..

               “My God!” Helena said.

               About an hour later, as they got close to Emma’s house, an army of policemen ran by them toward the billowing smoke now spiraling up from three different locations. They all had billy clubs drawn.

               They knocked on Emma’s door. The door opened immediately and they were pulled inside by two men with rifles.

               “You shouldn’t be out. You could get hurt or killed,” the taller one said to Henry.

               “We didn’t have any choice. We were walking over for lunch with Emma” Helena told him, trying to catch her breath.  “And had no way home.”

               “She’s upstairs. Where you should go right now. We are Mr. Beach’s men from the paper. We’ve hidden the colored servants out back. These riot people are breaking into the big houses to loot and to kill any Negros they find.”

               Henry followed Helena and Minnie upstairs where the girls fell into the arms of Emma and her mother. Mrs. Beach gave them tea and petted them until they calmed down. Henry’s hand was shaking as he tried to drink the tea.

The New York Times,  July 14, 1863

“THE MOB IN NEW-YORK.; Resistance to the Draft–Rioting and Bloodshed. Conscription Offices Sacked and Burned. Private Dwellings Pillaged and Fired. An ARMORY AND A HOTEL DESTROYED. Colored people Assaulted–An Unoffending Black Man Hung. The Tribune office Attacked–The Colored Orphan Asylum Ransacked and Burned–Other Outrages and Incidents. A DAY OF INFAMY AND DISGRACE. ATTACK UPON SUPERINTENDENT KENNEDY. THE ATTACK ON THE ARMORY IN SECOND-AVENUE. SCENES BY AN EYE-WITNESS. BURNING OF THE ORPHAN ASYLUM FOR COLORED CHILDREN. ATTACK ON THE TRIBUNE OFFICE. OUTRAGES UPON COLORED PERSONS. COURAGEOUS ACTION OF THE POLICE. THE ATTACK ON THE MAYOR’S RESIDENCE. MEETING OF EX-OFFICERS AT THE ARMORY OF THE SEVENTH REGIMENT. CHARACTER OF THE MOB. ROVING RIOTERS. APPREHENDED ATTACK ON THE POLICE HEADQUARTERS. THE HOUSES BURNED IN LEXINGTON-AVENUE. DESTRUCTION OF A BLOCK ON BROADWAY. BULL’S HEAD HOTEL. A STATION-HOUSE AND THE RESIDENCE OF THE CITY POSTMASTER BURNED. THIEVES AND PICKPOCKETS. THE POLICE. PREPARATIONS FOR TO-DAY.”

               Chloe Beach, Emma’s mother, was a self-possessed woman and even though she was probably frightened as much as the girls and Henry, she was not going to show it. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, but had a cute face and Emma’s little nose. Given to habitually twirling a strand of her dark brown hair with a finger, she seemed to be listening to every sound from downstairs. It was very quiet. A slight commotion outside drew her to the window. The two men guarding them were closing and locking the front gate. The women and Henry ventured down for lunch, which Emma and her mother prepared, and then spent the afternoon playing cards in the extension parlor with its wonderful large window view of the bay.

               Perhaps the worst was over.

               They all retired early with the men still on guard at the front door. Helena provided one man with her sister-in-law’s address, so that when they were relieved, they could get a message to her about their whereabouts and that they were safe.

               With the morning, Helena watched from the bedroom window as it all seemed to be continuing. There were random burning buildings, the billowing columns of smoke were scattered across the horizon of rooftops. She counted six. Minnie awoke and they dressed and went to Mrs. Beach’s bedroom. Emma and Henry soon joined them and they ventured downstairs together for breakfast.

               Emma’s father had returned home late and had left early to go back to his newspaper office. He had sent the two men from yesterday away and had met their replacements before going off. Mrs. Beach told them that her husband wasn’t certain that their paper, The Sun, would be published today. One of the new guards had brought them a copy of The Times. That paper was passed around the table as they ate.

               “I hope my sister-in-law is safe,” Helena said. “There’s not much there to loot.”

               “If it’s quiet this afternoon,” Mrs. Beach said, “Perhaps one of these gentlemen can escort you all back there.”

               Gunshots echoed outside.

               Around lunch time, there was a great deal of noise outside in front of the house. Mrs. Beach led her charges back upstairs. Henry hesitated and looked at the men by the front door.

               “Please come with us,” she told him. He ducked his head and followed.

               From her bedroom window, she looked out, hiding behind the curtain, trying not give herself away to whoever was there below. A group of ten or more teenage boys with clubs in their hands were breaking down the locked gate in front of the house. As they bent one side open, the two guards came out the front door and fired on them. One boy fell. The others rushed and grabbed one of their guards before he could fire again. The other man retreated back into the house, firing the rifle. The boys clubbed the man they had grabbed. The girls had been watching from the other window.

               “We must help them!” Helena exclaimed.

               She started toward the door of the bedroom. Minnie and Emma grabbed her arms.

               “No we can’t,” Minnie angrily told her.

               Her two friends held Helena tightly. She tried to shake them loose, but they wouldn’t budge.

               “We can’t let them die!”

               “Hush!” Mrs. Beach commanded her.

               Henry started for the door. She stood in front of him.

               “You must stay with us and be our last defense!”

               She handed him the fireplace poker.

               Mrs. Beach gave her daughter and Helena the broom and the shovel from the fireplace. And handed Minnie a vase to use in self-defense. She retrieved an umbrella from a closet. They all gripped their meager weapons, hoping the boys couldn’t get to them.

               The boys were in the house, things were crashing downstairs. More shots were fired. Several were coming up the stairs. They tried the locked door of the bedroom. Other doors were tried. Furniture crashed. A window in the next room exploded. The one guard was still firing at them.

               There were shouts.

               “Come on down! We’re getting killed!” yelled one of the teenagers.

               The intruders outside their door ran downstairs and several of the boys ran out the front door. Seven of the boys scrambled out the broken gate. A couple of them were carrying makeshift bags of loot. The guard followed them out and was shooting at them as they ran down the street.

               As soon as it was apparent that they weren’t returning, the man set his rifle by the door and helped the other man up and back into the house. He was still alive.

               “Now we must help them!” Helena said. “Please let me go!”

               Henry was next to the door. He was trembling. He looked at Mrs. Beach and she nodded. They unlocked the door and rushed downstairs. Four dead boys were sprawled about the entryway and parlor carpets. The women helped their injured guard to a sofa and Mrs. Beach retrieved a bowl of water and towels from the kitchen. She and her daughter tried cleaning the man’s injuries. He seemed conscious, but confused. Minnie followed Helena to check on the Negroes hiding out back. They hadn’t been discovered. Then Helena went to each of the boys to check them for signs of life. None were alive. The man with the rifle was just shaking his head as he watched her. Henry had taken a position beside the front door. He had retrieved the fallen man’s rifle from the front yard.

               “We need to barricade the broken gate,” he finally said. “You three able to help carry out some chairs to build it?”

               They helped him carry out dining room chairs and he jammed them into the hole until he was satisfied that it would be no easy matter to untangle them to get through to the front door again. After they were done, Helena and Minnie went back to the parlor. The man was dragging the boys out to the little walk at the front door. Henry stood motionless and just watched him. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the bodies.

               “This should discourage any more attempts today,” the guard told them

               Helena began to cry. Minnie took her hand.

The New York Times, July 15^th, 1863

“FACTS AND INCIDENTS OF THE RIOT.; THE MURDER OF COLORED PEOPLE IN THOMPSON AND SULLIVAN STREETS. THE SACKING OF BUILDINGS IN AVENUES B AND A. A COLORED MAN BEATEN TO DEATH IN LEROY STREET. THE RIOTERS IN THE SEVENTH PRECINCT. DOINGS OF GOV. SEYMOUR. THE DRAFT. THE GAS HOUSES. THE RIOT IN THE TENTH PRECINCT. THE PLUNDERING OF STORES IN THE ELEVENTH PRECINCT. ANOTHER STATION HOUSE BURNED. OTHER OUTRAGES. THE BODY OF COL. O’BRIEN. WAREHOUSES GUARDED. SOME OF THE KILLED AND WOUNDED. POLICEMEN SHOT. THE RIOT AT HARLEM. RIOTOUS DEMONSTRATIONS ON STATEN ISLAND. AT YORKVILLE. A WORD FOR OUR FIREMEN. DEFENCES OF THE TIMES OFFICE. THE TIMES AGAIN ILLUMINATED. REINFORCEMENTS FOR THE MOB. ARRIVAL OF TROOPS. THE COMMON COUNCIL ON THE DRAFT.”

               On Thursday, five regiments of New York Troops were sent and by midnight they and the police were in complete control of the city. The girls returned to Newport with stories to tell, but both were hardly able to tell them.

               Returning to Newport after surviving the riots, the three friends were having problems. Helena was having trouble sleeping and there were dreams about the face of one of the boys that was shot and killed. She knew the boy had been her age. She would get out of bed at three in the morning and wander down to the kitchen and make tea and end up in the parlor reading a book and not really reading it. Her sister would find her asleep on the parlor sofa after the sun had come up and send her back to bed.

               Minnie seemed angry much of the time. And she wanted Helena to support her. She had lately taken to harnessing up the one of the family’s carriage horses and racing about town and the countryside in their gig. Helena was expected to go along with her. She was even stealing some of her Uncle’s brandy to take along on the rides. Mr. Henry never discovered that part of it. But he tried to strictly forbid the carriage racing, which didn’t stop Minnie at all. He even went to Mrs. De Kay to complain.

               Henry had just deserted the two girls. He quit talking to either of them and had no time to even visit should he find himself at breakfast or lunch with them.

               Helena’s mother was upset about all of her daughter’s behavior. She was at a loss about how to go about fixing this mess. She wanted to separate Helena and Minnie for good. Helena’s sister, Julia, brought her mother an article from the New York Times. It was about The Cooper Union in New York City.

               “On the fourth floor is the School of Design for Women, a branch of the institution which is justly the pride of all concerned. It consists of four divisions as follows:

               “The Cast and Life class, under the control of Mr. GRAY.
The Landscape class, under Mr. WHITTREDGE.
The Engineering class, under Mr. O’BRIEN.
The Still Life class, under Mr. FARRAR.

               “The whole is under the superintendence of Mrs. H.M. FIELD. This school is the only one of the kind in the country that is in a flourishing condition. The number of pupils attending regularly now is nearly 260. Of the pupils, those who are able to pay, do so, but, for every amateur, or paying pupil, there are two free. To this part of the institution visitors are not allowed access except on Friday from 11 A.M. to 1 P.M., and no gentleman can be admitted unless accompanying a lady.”[4]

               Both mother and sister were aware that Helena had expressed interest in art. She had asked to take lessons with Mr. La Farge and she was drawing and sketching a lot. She dabbled in her mother’s watercolors.

               They had a sit down meeting in the parlor after Helena got up the second time the next morning. Janet showed her daughter the article.

               “We have a house on Staten Island,” she told Helena. “I want to suggest that you and Julia and I move there and you can enroll full time and become an artist.”

               “There’s a ferry to Manhattan every morning,” Julia added.

               “And what are you to do there?” Helena asked her sister.

               “I have many friends there.” Julia said.

               Helena knew it would be a great thing for her sister. And her mother could stop being angry about Minnie.

               “And Minnie can come to visit as often as she is able,” her mother said with a sigh.

               Helena had to tell Minnie.

               They took the gig to the beach the next afternoon. And got out to walk in the sand. They were soon barefoot with shoes and stockings in hand.

               “So I would get to study art and you can come visit whenever you want,” Helena suggested after telling her all about the school.

               “Uncle Henry is talking about moving us all to Boston.” Minny told her.

               “Damn,” Helena said.

               “Yes, damn.”

               They ended up sitting on a sand mound, with Minnie’s head in Helena’s lap. She was playing with her best friend’s short hair.

               “We are probably too young to get married,” Helena said.

               “If it was even legal. And neither of us have a dime.” Minnie said. “We can’t even run off and change our names.”

               “Shall we meet in Paris afterward? I’m sure it would all be just fine there.”

               “Yes, an artist’s garret near Notre Dame. The crème glacée is the best there,” Minnie said.

               They were quiet for a long time. As the afternoon was waning, they got up and walked back to the gig hand in hand. After returning to the James house and brushing down the horse back in its stall, they hugged and kissed and felt the tears fall just a bit. They would have to face their families at dinner.

[1] Courtesy, The Lilly Library, Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana

[2] Henry James. “autobiography”

[3] Lyndall Gordon, “A Private Life of Henry James”

[4] The New York Times, 1863