In 1866 Emerson, long exiled from the good graces of his Alma Mater, was restored to them by the bestowal of an honorary degree. In 1867 the restoration was completed by his election as an Overseer of Harvard College and his appearance, after an interval of thirty years, as the Phi Beta Kappa orator. In this capacity he read his address on the “Progress of Culture” on July 18, 1867. Of the manner in which he did it, and of the effect he produced on his hearers, Lowell wrote immediately to Norton, in a letter often quoted, “He boggled, he lost his place, he had to put on his glasses; but it was as if a creature from some fairer world had lost his way in our fogs, and it was our fault, not his.” “Phi Beta Day” was still a local festival of much brilliance, which was thus reflected in 1867 on the pages of Mrs. Fields’s journal.
Thursday, July 18, 1867.—Arose at five and worked in my garden until breakfast. Then it was time to dress for Phi Beta at Cambridge. We drove out, leaving home at nine o’clock. We expected Professor Andrew D. White to go with us, but he called still earlier to say he had been summoned to a business meeting by President Hill. The day was soft and pleasant with a clouded sky. We were among the first on the ground, but we had the pleasure of waiting a few moments to see our friends arrive before we were admitted to the church. Only ladies went in. I went with Mrs. Quincy, the poet’s[15] wife (poet for the day, for he is apt to disclaim this title usually), and we found good places in the gallery; by and by, however, Mrs. Dana beckoned to me to come and sit with them, so I changed my seat to a place on the lower floor. It was an impressive sight to see those men come in (though they kept us waiting until twelve o’clock)—Lowell, Emerson, Dana, Hale, and all the good brave men we have with few exceptions. First came Quincy’s poem, then Mr. Emerson’s address—both excellent after the manner of the men. Poor Mr. E.’s MSS. was in inextricable confusion, and in spite of the chivalry of E. E. Hale, who hunted up a cushion that he might see better, the whole matter seemed at first out of joint in the reader’s eyes. However that may have been, it was far from out of joint in our eyes, being noble in aim and influence, magnetic, imaginative. I felt grateful that I had lived till that moment and as if I might come home to live and work better. Thank Heaven for such a master! He was evidently put out and angry with himself for his disorder and, taking Mr. Fields’s arm as he came from the assembly, had to be somewhat reassured that it was not an utter failure.
Mrs. Dana tried to carry me to lunch, most kindly. I could not make up my mind to go anywhere after what I had heard, but for a moment to see if the good Jameses were well, and thence homeward. It seemed, if I could ever work, it must be then.
At half-past six Jamie returned from the dinner, where J. R. Lowell presided in the most elegant and brilliant manner. In calling out Agassiz he told the story of the sailor who was swallowed by a whale and finding time rather heavy on his hands thought he would inscribe his name on the bridge of bone above his head; but looking for a place, jack-knife in hand, he found that Jonah was before him—so he said Agassiz, etc. And of Holmes he said that the Professor and himself were like two buckets in a well: when one of them presided at a dinner, the other made it a point to bring a poem; when one bucket came up full, the other went down empty. And so on through all. Phillips Brooks, the distinguished preacher of Philadelphia, was there, and many other men of note.
Out of the many notes relating to Emerson’s lectures, a few passages may be taken as typical. Perhaps the best unpublished pages are those on which the philosopher is seen, with his wife and daughter, against the social background of the time and place.
October 19, 1868.—The weeks spin away so fast I have no time for records, and yet last Sunday and Monday we had two pleasant parties, especially Monday, after Mr. Emerson’s first lecture. We were 14 at supper. Mrs. Putnam and Miss Oakey among the guests, but the Emersons, who are always pleased and always full of kindliness, enjoyment, and Christianity, I believe give more pleasure than they receive wherever they are entertained. Edward is full of his grape-culture in Milton, Ellen full of good works, Mrs. Emerson very hot against her brother’s opponents, Morton and those who take sides with him now that Morton himself is in the earth-mould first.[16] Mr. Emerson, alive and alert on all topics, talked openly of the untruthfulness of the Peabodys, of the beauty of “Charles Auchester,” of Mr. Alcott’s school, of Dana’s politics as superior perhaps to Butler and yet not altogether sound and worthy, conservatism being so deep in his blood.
Thursday we drove our friends to Milton Blue Hill after the Emersons had gone, returned to dine and Selwyn’s theatre in the evening. Herman Merivale was of the party—son of Thackeray’s friend. The Stephens went on Wednesday. Thursday we dined in Milton with Mrs. Silsbee; it was a wet nasty day. Friday, Saturday and Sunday we were quietly enough here, Jamie with a fearful cold. Surely all this is unimportant enough as regards ourselves; but I like to remember when Mr. Emerson came and what he said and how he looked, for it is a pure benediction to see him and I honor and love him.
February 20, 1869.—Heard Emerson again, and Laura was with me; we drank up every word eagerly. He read Donne, Daniel, and especially Herbert; also vers de société; the facility of these old divines giving them a power akin to what has produced these familiar rhymes.
He said Herbert was full of holy quips; fond of using a kind of irony towards God, and quoted appropriately. Beautiful things of Herrick, too, he read, but treated Vaughan rather unjustly, we thought.
Lowell sat just behind; I could imagine his running commentary on many of Mr. Emerson’s remarks, which were often more Emersonian than universal, or true. The facility of the old poets seemed to impress him with almost undue reverence. He is extremely natural and easy in manner and speech during these readings. He bent his brows and shut his eyes, endeavoring to recall a passage from Ben Jonson as if we were at his own dinner-table, and at last when he gave it up said, “It is all the more provoking as I do not doubt many a friend here might help me out with it.”