[New York—Tuesday, 13 February 1872]
Tuesday. For the 3d time saw the fine pictures at Goupil’s gallery—Gerome’s Crucifixion his master-piece—and a picture by Brion of the Creation. There were other fine things but these are supreme and never to be forgotten. Down Broadway with Jamie—Found Osgood getting Jamie’s book out all wrong. He is losing prestige. He does not get up books in novel and careful styles. Bret Harte came into Dutton’s as we sat there and he expressed his own dissatisfaction. Mrs Stowe had previously told me hers. I fear he is going down, Alas!
We had promised to dine with Mr. & Mrs Harte early and go to the theatre afterward—therefore four o’clock found us at their door. He welcomed us by opening it himself and only this reassured Jamie. We had driven up in a “Crystal” much to my amusement, in which J. had insisted I should sit until he discovered if that were the house. The scene was altogether comic. I shortened the ludicrousness as much as possible by jumping out and running quickly up the steps. Mrs Harte was not ready to see me, but I found Mr. Barrett the actor with Mr. Harte in the parlor & soon being invited up stairs found Mrs Barrett & Mrs Harte together.
We had a merry dinner together, the young actor evidently quite nervous with respect to the evening’s performance. He went an hour before we to the play. We sat in the stage box—the play was Julius Caesar. It is useless to deny Edwin Booth great talent & exquisite grace & feeling. Both these young men, the first Barrett a man of intellect and Booth a man of inherited grace and feeling as well as good mind have the advantage however of being born to the stage. Their stage habits fit them more perfectly than those of the drawingroom and they walk the stage with the ease that most men do their own parlors. During the performance Booth invited us into his drawingroom—a short carpeted way led from the box into the small room where he was sitting in Roman costume, pipe in mouth; he rose and called “Mary”! as we approached, when the tiniest woman ever called wife made her appearance. She is an ardent little spark of human flame and he really looks large beside her. But his grace, his grace. His dress too was as usual perfect—more far more than all; both the actors had such feeling for Shakespeare and for their parts with which they are filling the stage nightly, that they were deeply and truly enthousiastic. It was a sight to warm Shakspeare.
Mr. and Mrs Harte went with us to the hotel & remained until half past 12. after which I packed and made ready for leaving N.Y. at 8 A.M.
Reached Boston that night but left J. at Foxboro—a manufacturing town where he had a first-rate audience, one of the best in the country. He was warmed through and through. In fine contrast to his Brooklyn night.
I found letters and papers innumerable awaiting me but took a long sleep that night.
