[Boston—Saturday, 19 January 1867]
Saturday. Lovely morning. Mr Whittier returns home today. I fancy he prefers to be under his own roof “first day.” We went into the hotel yesterday to see him and found him literally “Snow-bound.”
Somewhat broken morning. Una went away, Rose & Julian made their appearance. The latter had fought his way through the drifts and walked from Concord. He was taken in kindly for the night on the way having frozen both his ears. Read a little Virgil but did not have a very successful morning, then went with Lissie & dear J. for a long long walk and came home quite tired with struggling in wind & snow.
J. told us at dinner of a visit he had received today from Rev. George Ellis of Charlestown who related to him the cause of the quarrel between Winthrop and Sumner—one which can never be healed. It seems that Mr Prescott went to Washington for a visit and Mr Sumner accompanied him while Mr Winthrop was in office. The latter did all in his power to make their visit agreeable, they received invitations everywhere and the last evening of their stay Mr Winthrop walked home arm in arm with Sumner “when they swore eternal fealty.”
Before, however, Mr Sumner had been able to return to Boston, a series of letters of which he was the acknowledged author began to appear in the Courier “cutting up” Mr Winthrop fearfully. To be sure the tale as it stands comes from Mr Winthrop’s lips and must be taken “cum grano” but the charges are serious. Mr Sumner then wrote a letter to Mr Winthrop beginning “Dear Winthrop, I have found it necessary to attack your principles with wh. I disagree but I trust our friendship may remain unimpaired” and either in the same note or on a subsequent occasion he denied that certain cruel epithets were his, saying they were interpolated by the editor. Mr Winthrop went to the editor as soon as practicable, good J.T. Buckingham, who said he printed the letters as they came neither inserting nor subtracting anything.
I give the story for what it is worth though I can’t help believing there must be a Sumner side to the case.
Very large meeting of the Union Club last night. The question whether the Club should be kept open Sundays was the one proposed for discussion. Every room of the large house was open and filled. Gov. Andrew made an excellent speech full of his fine humanity wh. carries the majority so fatally (whether for good or ill) over to his side. He proposed that the house should be opened with restrictions—a few rooms and no liquor—this was well, for a certain external compromise must be made in order to keep the world’s people who support the institution; beside for the sake of strangers, ’tis well!
The question of sending aid to Crete was also brought up. So far only $6,500 have been collected. It was after 12 before J. returned. I sat by the fire reading Ste. Beuve’s wonderful “portraits de femmes” until I fell asleep, then I woke up to find the house quiet and sat somewhat meditatively over the embers until he returned. Early in the evening I read Hawthorne’s tale “Rappaccini’s daughter” to Lissie.
