[Boston—Thursday, 12 June 1873]
Thursday June 12. Dined last night with the Aldrich’s & Mr. Bugbee at Mr. Lowell’s beautiful old Elmwood. It was a perfect night, cool, fresh, moonlighted, after a muggy day of heat. After dinner I went into the fine old study with Aldrich where he showed me two or three little poems he has lately written. He was all ready to talk on literary topics and was much in earnest about his new satisfaction over “Miss Mehitable’s Son” (which is indeed a very good story) and was full of disgust over the Nation’s cool dismissal of it—it was too bad, but that Dennet of the Nation is beneath contempt because of the slights he throws upon good literary work.
Aldrich says he found “Asphodel” all worn to pieces, read and reread in the up-stairs study. He finds Mr. Lowell’s library in curious disorder with respect to modern books. He is an easy lender and and [sic] easy borrower; the result is everything is a[t] loose ends—only two volumes of Hawthorne can be found for instance.
Good old Mr. Bird called at the door to talk of his fire machine. His enthousiasm will do as much as the fires themselves to kindle the interest of the community, I really believe.
Not well today—slept this morning. Jamie went to Manchester—found everything lovely, Mrs Dame expectant. I remained here and received visits from Imogen & Nelly, Madame Mauclaire and my dear Lizzy.
Reading Winckelmann with great delight. He was indeed a student—one worthy of the name. He was forty years of age before he had ever printed anything worthy to represent himself. A literary fame was not his ambition. We find a kindred width of view in Rousseau, to study, to know, to prepare, is their great ambition, afterward to render the fruit of their experience in as few words as possible.
Such wonderful colors overspread our bay this evening, the wide heavens, and all that lay between it seemed an unreal and magic glory and I recall dimly Hawthorne’s disgust when he endeavored to describe a landscape. The Lord, he says, expressed himself in this glory, how shall we therefore interpret into language what He himself has taken this form of speech as the only adequate expression to convey his meaning to us.
Who does not feel this in looking at the glories of Nature in this perfect season.
