Elmwood, Thursday, Aug.
18, 1864.
My dear Charles, — The other day Field1 came to
see us, and told me that he was going to Ashfield next Saturday, whereupon I
thought we could not do better than come together. He will at least mitigate my
dulness, which, for several weeks, has neighboured on idiocy, having had a
headache all the time — which makes it lucky ’twas vacation.
I believe Fanny wrote to Jane how (like a fool) I went down
East with a notion of exploring the Coast of Maine in the company of a
Congressional Committee. I saw the chairman — who seemed amazed to see me —
and a roomful of his satellites (of the clean-dicky and dirty-shirt kind);
found that we were to be trotted round on show like a menagerie; and came
straight home again, wiser, hotter, and headachier. I find that one's ears grow
with his growth.
Except this insane escapade, I have not stirred from my
study since vacation began — unless I count one dinner at the Club. To-day I am
going to help dine Mr. Chase. I shall come home sorry that I went, I know; but
hope always gets the better of experience with me. I almost think I should be
willing to live over again — though I ought to know better by this time.
O Frances Dobbs!
This life is cobs
Without one grain of
corn:
’Tis wake and eat—
Sleep — then repeat,
Since ever I was
born!
And yet we fear
Our tread-mill here
May cease its weary
round,
And think ’tis not
All one to rot
Above or under
ground!
This dining, by the way, is a funny thing. Did it ever occur
to mortal man to give a dinner to some one who really wanted it? I think it
would be rather a good lark to dine the hungriest man in Boston.
Wouldn't I like to dine old Farragut (feragut) though! By Jove! the sea-service
hasn't lost its romance, in spite of iron turtles. And isn't wood, after all,
the thing? I believe the big guns will bring us back to wooden ships again. For
one lucky shot may sink one of these hogs in armour. By the way, Sir Richard
Hawkins discusses this very matter of big shot two hundred and fifty years ago,
and decides in favour of large bores, because the ball will make a leak that
can't be stopped. ...
I believe I was glad to see that Arthur was a prisoner. He
is safe, at any rate for the present, which is a comfort. He did all a man
could in going. He offered his life, and if Fate will not take it we ought to
be thankful. ... As John [Holmes] says (he has dined with us twice this
week !), “It's better to suffer from too little bread than from too much lead.”
. . .
_______________
1 The late John W. Field, a man of singular
friendliness, of whom Lowell, shortly after making his acquaintance, wrote:
“Few things to charm
me more can nature yield
Than a broad, open,
breezy, high-viewed Field."”
SOURCE: Charles Eliot Norton, Editor, Letters of
James Russell Lowell, Volume 1, p. 380-2
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