[Boston—Thursday, 18 January 1872]

Thursday. Jan’y 18. Yesterday after Nellie Beal’s wedding we left for Concord where J. was to lecture in the evening. Mrs Emerson had long before invited us to pass the night there but a note from Ellen a few days previous told us that her father had been detained in Washington and would not be at home.

The snow fell and the cold was pretty severe as we jumped into the carriage for Concord but the healthy look of the country people as we went on, made us think there was good in the country after all. Walden Pond never looked finer than in its shroud with the black trees standing silently around. We found Mrs E’s old carryall and a shaggy little reddish horse at the station and Ellen ran to the door to let us in as we came up to the side-door of the old house. Mrs E. & Ellen had only returned a few hours before, themselves, from Milton where they had been passing a few last days with Edith before her departure for Europe. They found the house very cold after being shut up a fortnight but Ellen built such a roaring fire of wood in the parlor that we forgot the idea of cold very soon. The house and the inhabitants are excellent types of New England. Everything is scrupulously neat and plain. Ellen is plain to a fault in her dress and ways but she is a pattern of truth and courage and devotion, indeed, of the highest Christian morals. Annie Keyes, to whom Edward the son has been lately engaged came in soon after we had planted ourselves by the great brass andirons, a fresh country girl who seems to have been adopted at once into the family and gives them all great pleasure by her sweet household ways. She is not handsome and has no thought of herself apparent; but she has a good figure, appears strong and healthy and most loving & happy among them all. Ellen said her mother was lying down resting and begged to be excused for a little while. So we talked about their Village life, the introduction of street lamps, their country gatherings in winter which often came off Ellen said at their house just as her father would come unexpectedly home tired from some long expedition to find the furniture all moved away from the lower part of the house and nothing for him to eat; at such times he was often very miserable indeed. About here Mrs Emerson came in, the soul of hospitality in her face, to say she was truly glad to see us but her only hope of having a word to say was to lie down, now she felt entirely refreshed. She wears a plain plaited tulle cap tied with blue lutestring under her chin and falling off somewhat long upon her shoulders, a very ugly little cap much like a shaker bonnet in shape but clean and convenient. In spite of all this there is always a kind of dignity about her, and ever translucent beauty in her face at times. Her eyes must have been very beautiful. We went into the dining-room also warmed by a wood-fire, running past through the entries which were cold as Boreas could make them and took tea cosily enough. Jamie introduced talk about the general & as he feared increasing ignorance of literature when Mrs Emerson said, “Well my husband was a naughty boy at college & that was the way he got all his reading; he never took any honors and was only chosen as a member of Phi Beta years after. He read everything he could find and let the lessons take care of themselves. She said, she was glad he had been visiting Mr Sumner in Washington, for she considered him the bulwark of the American nation. She cannot endure the New York paper The Nation for the slurs it throws upon Sumner.

It was near time to prepare for the lecture and we separated to put on hats & bonnets when I heard the front door open—presently when I went back to the dining-room there was the dear honored sage himself waiting to receive us. He had lectured on the previous night in Washington, left in the half past eight train for the North and there he was by his own fireside. In spite of the snow & cold he said he should walk to the lecture room just as soon as he had taken a cup of tea and before Jamie had given expression to a little reference to him in his lecture which he wished to get over before he should arrive, his welcome figure appeared at the door. He was however much pleased at what “J” said about him. The audience too, though not a noisy one was highly appreciative. Plain country women who had taken the trouble to get out though the snow found their spirits lighter as he ended and their faces breaking into smiles as he proceeded.

Mr Alcott was also present. He went home with us afterward in accordance with Mrs E’s invitation. Ellen ran home before us and piled up the fireplace again with noble logs. Annie Keyes had brought a few flowers, Mrs Emerson had cake and wine brought in, everything was cheerful and we sat down for a talk. “Mr. Alcott was quite swayed out of his usual habit” said Mr. E. “by the good cheer of such sanity”. Certain it is, we all sat and talked and listened by turns. Mrs Emerson was inclined to talk with me while Mr. E. I saw seized the first chance to tell Ellen in a low voice all his goings and doings. “Queenie” evidently did not care to hear so much. Her own nervous disease occupies her much. Her mind is perfectly clear and alert—she cannot sleep by night but in the morning she drops away. She calls the Sun her evening. Charles Sumner she considers the bulwark of the nation. She is eager for Womans Suffrage and has small patience with Ellen’s luke warming on this head. She attacked J.T.F. for saying mince-pies were unhealthy for breakfast. It is my husband’s favorite dish at that meal she said & you may have one tomorrow morning.

The discussion of opium was taken up, as a drug in general use. Concord is an exception to most villages in this particular. Good old Dr. Bartlett stopped in afterward to say he had known but two cases in 50 years of practice in that vicinity. De Quincy naturally came up. He had been known personally to Mr. E. as well as to J. and they both had tales to tell of the imaginary Mrs Morgan who used to haunt him. I went to bed early but J. sat with Mr. Emerson until 12 talking about Tennyson who impressed the latter as the greatest individual presence he had ever come in contact with.


National Endowment for the Humanities - Logo

Editorial work on The Brownings’ Correspondence is supported by the National Endowment for the Humanities.

This website was last updated on 3-29-2024.

Copyright © 2024 Wedgestone Press. All rights reserved.

Back To Top