5:45 P.M. The day very cool. W. had closed the doors of his room, though sitting by the open window. Asked me at once if
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I had got to Morris' yesterday. I gave him note of thanks Morris had sent. Read and called him "a good fellow."
Spoke of postal he received from John Swinton, as follows:
Said— "If you've any curiosity, keep it."
Then spoke of John Boyle O'Reilly's tragic taking-off. W. said, "I have not got over it yet—it was a startling story! And such a fellow! What the handsome light and shadow of the man! He had the fine port, the dark hair and eyes—of the Irish-Spanish mixture he was. When I looked at him I never wondered again why it was said to the credit of Ireland that it had come of Spain, or a thick Spanish mixture." Insomnia "a strange freak."
JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY DEADSpoke of Burroughs: "But in Burroughs sickness is the reushering of the Burroughs of 30 years ago. When he first came to Washington in the early years of the war, we did not think he would have a long lease—he was so frail, a blow would have knocked him down. Then he has domestic comlications which do him no good." As to the idea Bucke had that Burroughs avoided him: "I had never heard of that—had no idea of the sort from John himself. But then John has his caprices—I was going to say kinks, but caprice will probably give my meaning better. I find in all characters that live close to nature, capriciousness, variability—they seem to pattern after nature's higher rules. The children are that way, and dogs, cats—not but that their perceptions, intuitions, are keen enough, but with the capricious, too." Speaking of "the intuitive perception of children, knowing who look them well—are their friends," as he put it, he said— "Whatever of others, I don't think any child could long mistake the grandmotherliness of Mrs. Traubel." And further of O'Reilly: "He was a handsome man—chivalrous—noble—everybody liked him—there was spice of heroics, aromas of escapade, bravery, hairbreadth daring, moral heroism. He went everywhere—lived fast: ate, drank—was a merry man." I asked, "Wouldn't you like to give me something—some few lines—about him for the Conservator?"— "Yes—glad—if I can: if they come to me. I wish I could. The noble O'Reilly! I will see what I can do."
Read the following in Press yesterday:
I said to W., "I see you went to dine with Emerson in your shirtsleeves." He laughed, "So I see—so I learn, for the first time! I kept a copy of the Press here—marked it—supposing you might not hear. It is all a lie—an entire lie—and it is not
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the first edition of the same lie, either. I have got the character, and this only repeats and repeats. He gives it as though it was from Emerson himself, but if Emerson remembered, he would not have said it. The worst lies, as I have said, are those with just a shred of truth—enough truth simply to get the ear. This paragraph has an Edward-Emersonish flavor." Especially "his verses perspire"—excited W.'s risibility. "They must rub it in, or they would not be happy." And then, "You see—the story of the shirt is quite circumstantial—it has been told before—it is long put upon me and will stick—but they are all lies—all stories of the kind. It is like Lincoln and the smutty stories—time was, when a fellow got a particularly dirty story, he would say, I've heard a good one on Lincoln—listen—and all would crop up ears and Lincoln would be pilloried again. And so these shirt stories are put back to me." And further, "It shows what books may be worth."
Sent paper to Morse among others today—asked if it was rightly addressed. "Here," he said—opening a paper starch box on table— "these are sugared calamus bits—sent by Kennedy long ago—buried there in the mixture of things—I turned them up in looking for something else today. Won't you take some up to the folks?" Asked me, "Would you like me to jot down some memoranda for your article?" And at my assent, said he would write out what occurred to him.
Gave me papers for Morse and Rayner and letter for Harry Bonsall, for mailing.
Spoke of having given Buckwalter a copy of the Conservator containing Kennedy's piece.