Josiah B. Millet

Not only is the soil of New England favorable to the production of originals; its atmosphere encourages them to grow as they will and feeds their comfort. As a result, such a unique person as Josiah Byram Millet could pursue his oddly contradictory activities without developing the slightest self-consciousness or losing a jot of his native simplicity and gentleness.

The Far East was one of his lifelong prepossessions and having given his heart to Japan he never faltered in his friendship. As editor and publisher he brought out some twenty volumes of Captain Brinkley’s works on Japan and was an ardent collector of Japanese works of art. His first love for the country dated from the Theodore Roosevelt era and over the decades hardly a distinguished visitor from Japan, whether diplomat or scholar, failed to become his friend. When that astute agent of imperial expansion, the South Manchuria Railway, sought to organize spokesmen in America, Millet was one of its retainers. Yet no one could dream of misconceiving the sincerity of his labors. By an early and fundamental bias he was pro-Japanese and much as he disapproved of many acts of the government of Japan, his admiration of its civilization and his faith in the fine qualities of many of its leaders could not be daunted. It should be added that because of his final illness he never learned of the current invasion of China.

By turns newspaper reporter, art editor, head of one of the first photogravure companies, publisher, and writer, he gave much of his loyalty to ships and it was in aid of their safety that he performed his best known work. The submarine bell was his invention and he devoted a decade of his life to its perfection and to trips abroad to spread the news of it. When a certain British liner committed the unpardonable stupidity of ramming and sinking the Nantucket lightship, he came as close as he could ever come to wrath over the absence from the ship’s equipment of a submarine bell receiving set which would almost certainly have prevented the accident. On a visit to London he addressed alike the Society of Arts and the Society of Naval Architects. When his nautical invention became an old and successful story, he retired from the company which was promoting it and turned to aviation. In 1907 he witnessed the first official airplane flight in France as the guest of Wilbur Wright. On the rolls of the Century for nearly thirty years, he loved the Club and its members loved him. During his sojourns in the city he “lived” at the club-house. A great baseball fan—an all too rare phenomenon at the Century—he often took one of the clerks from the office with him to a game. In earlier years he was an accomplished guitarist, his knowledge and skill on the instrument winning him the friendship of the famous guitarist Segovia. One of his last acts was to present to the Library of Congress his extensive collection of guitar and lute music, and his very fine instrument. A gentle and highly individual soul, his one concern during his last illness was for the many stricken friends whom he had long aided and whom he must now leave behind.

Geoffrey Parsons
1938 Century Memorials