[Boston—Thursday, 9 November 1865]
Nov 9. Soft clouded weather. Day somewhat broken. Wrote a little to complete Asphodel a trifle—this morning went to see Charlotte Forten to try to help her to a boarding-place. Went round the Common with J. that he might have some air. He says George W. Green has again come to make poor Longfellow a visit and appears more cast down than ever.
In the evening T.B. Aldrich and Miss Lily Woodman his affianced bride passed a portion of their last hours in Boston with us. She is pretty and very happy and better than either anxious to be all a wife can be to him. They have both been bred in luxury, New York luxury, but are soon to be married on a small salary. What then? They hardly know themselves and look at the matter practically and rationally but with a little trepidation—more on her part than his and justly in many ways it will fall heaviest on her, except for this that among men, men who do not make money are of little account and get somewhat trodden over. However they are truly in love and won’t mind that.
Aldrich told us the story of Fitz James O’Brien the able author of the “Diamond Lens.” He was a handsome fellow and began his career by running away with the wife of an English officer. The officer was in India and Fitz James and the guilty woman had fled to one of the sea-ports in the South of England in order to take passage for America when the arrival of the woman’s husband was announced to them and O’Brien fled. He concealed himself on board a ship bound for New York. There he ran a career of dissipation, landing with only sixty dollars he went to a first rate hotel, ordered wines and left a large bill behind when the time came to run away. Then he wrote for Harpers & one publisher and another writing little and over-drawing funds on a large scale. He came and lived six weeks upon Aldrichs in his uncle’s house one summer when the family were away. One day he tried to borrow money of Harpers & being refused he went into the binding department, borrowed a board, printed on it “I am starving”, bored holes through the ends, put in a string, hung it round his neck, allowed his fawn colored gloves to depend over each end and stood in the doorway where the firm should see him when they went to dinner—a great laugh & more money was the result of this escapade. Finally when the war broke out he enlisted and this was the last A. heard of him for sometime but being himself called to take a position on Gen. Lander’s staff he was on his way to Richmond & had reached Petersburg when some one told him Fitz James O’Brien has been shot dead—then he went to the hospital and saw him lying there dead.
Shortly after this when Bayard Taylor & his wife were dining in a hotel restaurant at Dover, I believe, it was one of the South of England town they saw themselves closely observed by a lady and gentleman sitting near them, finally the gentleman arose and came to speak to Taylor, said he observed they were Americans and asked if he had ever heard of F.J. O’Brien. Oh yes said Taylor I knew him very well he was killed in our war. Then the lady burst into tears and the gentleman said, “She is his mother!”
I forgot to say in the course of the story that he borrowed once 65 dollars for which A. became responsible and when it was not paid he sent a letter to O’B. saying he must pay it. In return O’Brien sent him a challenge for a duel which A. accepted, in the meantime discovering that an honorable fight could not be between a debtor & a creditor—however when the time appointed arrived O’Brien had absconded. We could not repress a smile at the idea of A’s fighting for he is a painfully small gentleman.
