[Boston—Saturday, 21 September 1872]
Saturday. Last evening a Mr. Louis an English gentleman called here and delivered us letters of introduction. He is an inscrutable kind of mortal having travelled over the realms of knowledge as well as over the kingdoms of the earth and brought away a crowded mind whose curiosity is still keen. He means to settle here & we shall doubtless see more of him—he looks like a Jesuit and of his character we know nothing. He gave a strange description of Herbert Spencer coming to Mrs Lewes’s in London where Mr. Louis was always glad to go whenever Sunday came round but where he found H.S. to be his bête noir. He was just enjoying a most delightful talk with Mrs L. one afternoon when this philosopher presented himself and seating himself bolt upright in an armchair the opposite side of the fire propounded this extraordinary proposition: “I have been discussing of late the question and I should like much to hear your opinion upon the subject why it is that being able to comprehend all space to the uttermost limits of creation I cannot yet comprehend the space included in my own brain.” Mrs L.’s eyes twinkled at this piece of absurdity and replied that if Mr. Spencer meant to say he could not understand what the space of his own brain could be, without his brain, she could easily understand his difficulty—otherwise she must ask him to explain himself—upon which he proceeded to an indefinite length.”
