Towards the latter part of my stay in Boston, I received a letter from Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson, asking me to dine with him at Concord, and mentioning that he had also invited Mrs. Julia Ward Howe. Upon the day he had fixed for the purpose, we travelled down to the station, and were met by Miss Emerson, who drove us home in her quaint old-fashioned carriage. The pony, she told us, was a friend who had been in the family for twenty years. We were received by Mr. and Mrs. Emerson. A few other guests came from Cambridge, and then we went in to dinner. Mr. Emerson talked much of De Quincey, whom he had known at Lasswade, near Edinburgh, and then referring to our English poets, mentioned with admiration, Tennyson’s poem, “Tithonus.” One of his daughters spoke with enthusiasm about Professor Agassiz’s deep sea dredgings, the lectures upon which she had been attending.

Finally, the (always) absorbing topic of American politics was dwelt upon, especially with respect to the effect of democratic institutions upon the character of the people. Mr. Emerson alluded with much sadness to those evil influences of political corruption and office-seeking which appeared to be inevitable blots upon all systems of democracy, but he said that he thought things would come right in the end. Upon the various occasions that I met and conversed with leading politicians (amongst whom was Chief Justice Chase), I observed that they usually spoke of the future of their country with the same anxiety.

There was much doubt and uncertainty as to what was going to happen in the Southern States, which had so recently been made desolate. Men’s minds were still agitated by the memory of the serious events that had happened during the Civil War. That great national convulsion had engaged the thoughts and actions of all American citizens to the fullest extent, and had necessarily diverted the conduct of affairs from the ordinary channels. There was consequently a feeling of disquietude amongst those who loved their country, their freedom and their laws. But this temporary form of misgiving was always accompanied by the firm conviction that in some manner, not then quite clear, the nation would ultimately triumph over all difficulties.

After dinner, Mr. Emerson took me into the library, and began to look over his books and point out his favourites. He said that what he most delighted in were the translations from Persian and other Eastern works. Finding that I was interested in his Oriental studies, he did not care to quit his books, and so we remained in the library until it was time to leave. In the meanwhile, he had taken down from the shelves many volumes. He also showed me photographs of his friends, and drew my attention to a likeness of Margaret Fuller, whom he had known for many years, and for whom he had felt great regard and esteem.

Margaret Fuller, who must have been a woman of extraordinary genius, was one of the leaders of the school of thought called Transcendentalism. Her end was as strange as her life. She crossed the Atlantic, travelled in Italy, married the Marchese d’Ossoli and was in Europe when the Revolution of 1848 broke out. Her sympathies being entirely with the cause of Italian freedom, she took a prominent part, under the direction of Mazzini, Garibaldi and other patriots, in the defence of Rome, doing much good service in the hospitals. After the adverse events of 1849, she embarked with her husband on board a sailing vessel bound for her own land, on the shores of which she was wrecked in a storm and all perished.

Before we went away, Mr. Emerson suggested that I should look at the exterior of the house, in which he seemed to take great interest. He told me that he had lived in it thirty-five years and had only made one change—the addition of the drawing room. It was an unpretending plank building of two stories, standing in its own small grounds, and was chiefly noticeable in consequence of having some fine chestnut trees in front between the door and the road.

Upon our return to the city, the President of the University asked me to be the guest of the Alumni of Harvard. His letter ran thus:—

“June 23.”

“My dear Sir,”

“On behalf of the Alumni of Harvard College, I invite you to be present at the Commencement Dinner in Harvard Hall, Cambridge, on Tuesday, the 29th inst. The Alumni and their guests will assemble in Gore Hall, the Library, at 2 p.m. on that day. I hope to receive your acceptance, and to have the pleasure of meeting you on the occasion.”

“Very respectfully yours,
WM. GRAY,
Pres. of Alumni Assoc.”

At one of the customary afternoon meetings of the members of the Saturday Club, I dined with them as the guest of Dr. Howe. Among those present were Mr. Sumner, Professor Wyman, Mr. Lowell, Judge Hoar, Mr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, and Professor Gurney, the editor of the North American Review. Mr. Emerson was the chairman. The possibility of spontaneous generation, was the topic that happened to be chiefly discussed. Professor Wyman had been carrying out a series of experiments at Cambridge, and he told us what had been the results of his experience. He said that he had ascertained that the theory that boiling water killed life was, to a certain extent, erroneous. A first boiling killed some of the living creatures, a second boiling killed more, living organisms being reduced gradually in quantity. After a fourth severe boiling he failed to trace any life whatever. Finally after having carried out with great care, tests of all natures, he doubted the possibility of creating life where no life had previously existed.