[London—Saturday, 18 June 1859]
Saturday morning we were up betimes and soon after 9 started for the Palace of Art accompanied by our very good and kind friend Mr Bennett. It was something to write Kate about—a day in real life equal to the highest aesthetic desires. It was so beautiful that it seemed perfectly surreal, like dreams written out in marble and gold. All this loveliness too was overlaid and lifted up by columns and floods of music. There were many thousand performers interpreting the music of Handel, all subdued as if it were but one voice, by the resistless power of melody.
From Sydenham we went directly to Greenwich to tea with the Bennochs those dear friends. They were already on the lawn when we arrived. Here was Durham the sculptor and Mr Crosland. The moment Mr Crosland saw us he started up saying “wait one moment I shall run and get my wife” and sure enough in five minutes he came back with that dear woman towards whom I felt drawn at once. There we sat, flowers about us, trees above us, friends on every hand until I felt, There is Heaven where Love dwells. We stopped at the Crosland’s cottage upon our return where she gave us the Mystic with P. J. Baily’s notes.