File:Frances (Appleton) Longfellow to Isaac Appleton Jewett, 9 May 1840 (a8152af9-f10b-4c18-8766-0565182628ab).jpg

Manuscript letter

Archives Number: 1011/002.001-010#013

Boston May 9th 1840
Dear Jewett, It is, what school-girls call ‘an age,’ since I have written you. Heaven & your journal (if you keep one) only know what worlds & solar system’s [sic] of thoughts & theories you have dashed through in this time to nourish your love of the “intense.” but I have been working over a tread-mill of rather painful feelings which were best kept to myself or I should have answered ‘long time ago’ your entertaining epistle of 5th March. Reading it over now I am somewhat tempted to discuss some ideas therein but as you are now probably at their antipodes will spare you the trouble of such a long journey. “Let the dead past bury its dead.” Old letters are generally the least welcome ‘revenants.’ I have got some hints of your plans & should think they would turn out admirably, if any thing of the sort will suit you, if you can resign yourself to see the practical extending “as a long lawyer’s office” before you & be satisfied with a Cincinnatian orbit & listening per aye ‘to all the ills which flesh is heir to,’ the oppressor’s scorn,” the pangs (of (pigs) – and) despised love” &c &c. to avoid which the poor Dane was effeminate enough to cry for a bare bodkin but you will look at it all as a ressurectionist does a good body to be analysed & playfully cut to pieces. You will have leisure enough beside to enjoy the never-dying Past which you have the happy faculty of seeing with your ‘mind’s eye’ more clearly than most people do the present with both their bodily organs. You certainly are one of the happiest [crossed out: people] mortals alive, or ought to be, with your all enjoying capacities, your speedy content with the most unpromising evironments’ – your greater susceptibility (or longer) to the ‘cakes & ale’ of human condition than to the “wolf-dens & charnel-houses” &c &c [p. 2] but if (selon Monsieur Carlyle) unconsciousness’ is the only truly happy state. I am eloquently, but unfriendily, undermining [crossed out: ing] the very blessing I congratulate you for possessing; that’s precious humbug for you know all this better than any-body & are 10 times happier therefor. Consciousness – I should say, au contraire, was is a supreme good – giving us the key of our inner actions against all emergencies & that buckler of trust which defends us from so many Parthian enemies; even consciousness of our weakness is one step to strength & then certainly consciousness (or appreciation) of the blessings of life & our facility to grasp & keep them is the highest blessing. But I believe we never disagreed on this point malgré your intense reverence for all Thomas Carlyle’s opinions. He, like our aesthetic people here, is apt, occasionally, I think to be so near-sighted in regarding Truth that they makes a part seem the whole by a juggling magic which the common-sense ones – looking at from a greater distance, & a truer angle sometimes, wonder they dont [sic] see clearly. We have just been dispatching letters for Mary by the G. Western, sad reminders of the gulph that separates us. She did not sail till the 20th April - & should be about arriving if they have found as good winds in mid ocean as we have had here. They went in an excellent ship (the N. York) & Mary wrote me, by the Pilot, that she left America “in excellent health & spirits with none of her usual sea-fears.” Such a guardian-angel is true happiness - & strange as it would have seemed to entrust her a few months ago to an utter stranger far-wandering from country & friends I feel as if she were never before so protected as now by her wholly devoted & most admirable husband. I wish, dear J – you had a better than an external acquaintance with my good brother-in-law for philosopher as you profess yourself - & despiser of the narrow-mindedness [p. 3] which sees only in a man a mannequin [mannekin] to wear cloths & manners à la mode yet you are not a little influenced by these accidental adornments & I fear have got up somewhat of a prejudice against Mr M. because he neglects both considerably, partly from an honest scorn of foppery & partly from a constitutional shyness. Nothing tickles & pleases my senses better than good-dressing & graceful manners & sometimes I confess they make passable for a short time a mere transparency of a man but I am not so spoiled by the world that I cannot recognise & delight in a genuine true character tho’ shrouded in the roughest exterior - & how often our respect would be lowered for a great man if he were too finical. C’est à dire refinement of soul & mind & heart is what I demand imperatively & when those shine forth with heaven-kindled lustre my eyes do not stoop so low as to discern whether pantaloons are attached by straps; the boots are of patent leather & always in the 3d position, or the mouchoir scented à faire évanouir. Now I think you have flanéd in the Tuileries long enough & have admired those admirably-got-up, ambulating, taylor’s-advertisements there profoundly enough (and they merit for they succeed in the role they adopt & that is always satisfactory be it doll-making) to have your judgement considerably biased in first impressions of men – I only say first impressions for I give you credit for too much philosophical discernment & appreciation of durable qualities not to separate sham from reality - & dispense with these outside prettinesses if they do not happen to stick to a true man If you, then, have any lingering sneer in your heart or on your lips at Mr M’s love of individuality (Good heaven what a refreshment in these stereotyped, public-opinion-enslaved days) & English independence utter it not – till you find something in his character that demands it – till you know him, in fact, & then only will you have the right to think or express it. Perhaps I express myself very harshly but I get [p. 4] every day more & more disgusted with the narrow-minded judgements of the world about people & the stupid faith of the mass in the preening malice of those petty natures that sicken at praise of the truly good. I know this is folly because the stars are not extinguished by night vapours or even [crossed out: partially] permanently dimmed, but, in spite of reason, it frets us & we regret to see a friend a victim or a slave to such influences. From the way in which you say Mr M. is talked about at Cincinnati – I see he is not really known there – therefore, I pray you, do not countenance such ignorant judgments, but believe in my impartiality when I assure you he is endowed with noble, genuine qualities of mind & heart which must ensure him respect & admiration every-where. The number & quality (intellectual not aristocratic) of his friends in England are proofs of this. Charles Sumner, who has just returned, brings him a thousand friendly messages from Brougham, Lord John Russell, Hallam, Sydney Smith - &c &c thinking to find him here. He says he was constantly asked after ‘Bob Mackintosh’ as they call him. I only mention this to show you that his Father’s fame alone does not make for him distinguished friends – besides [crossed out: that] he has a shrinking suspicion of that kind of inherited regard & draws back with that mixture of pride & modesty most belonging to worthy natures – from all notice not springing from knowledge of his own deserts. I write so seriously because it is a tusk I have, & am seriously lamenting the loss of such a good friend – taken from me just as I was fully appreciating the benefit his counsels might produce in correcting some faults of my character too carelessly overlooked often. Among others this decrying people on small grounds or unworthy grounds (not one of your sins, by the way, witness our discussions at Lebanon & your distress when any body “was rowed up Salt River” to express it elegantly. You know I can handle an oar pretty well on such oc- [p. 5] cassions but I am beginning to find it blisters my hands & is an unprofitable, heart-encrusting business. I have improved enough to admire much those who conscientiously avoid it among whom is this excellent eldest brother of mine. Emmeline & I have made many sage resolves thereavent – chiefly owing, I honestly assure you, to Mac’s admirable example which she admires as much as I do. The solemnity of my first sheet must have bored you so much that I come upon this hoping to do better. Aunt Everett has been “tarrying” at Uncle Sam’s for a week or more, her first visit for 10 years. She looks precisely as I remember her, but I, of course, have jumped utterly out of her knowledge & she had to be reintroduced to the little girl she once appalled with her sage counsels. An odd feeling this growing up to & past even the intellect which in our youth was regarded with awe. She wandered over the house the other day picking up the past in every corner - & saddening me not a little with her souvenirs of the nursery (not the new one) & enumeration of the many, many changes. Tom completely puzzles the good lady with his waggery & goat-like additions of beard. She knits & goes to prayer-meetings as regularly as if she were in N. Ipswich. Charming stability of age & character undisturbed by change of place, & “such change”! We have just go the news of the death of Joseph Appleton, son of Uncle Isaac (a member of the family that has never lived for me) leaving a wife & 4 children. Mrs E. declares him to have had quite a literary turn (so all reading beside the Bible & Watts’ hymns is called in the country, you know) & to have been a great admirer of Sir James M’s writings. Some ‘village Hampden’ peutiche. Quantities of people have returned from Europe. Only think of Fanny Essler’s dancing her proud, majestic Cachucha in our Lilliputian theatres. They make out a fine story in the papers that she comes here out of curiosity to see the country to dance in a free atmosphere &c (she cant quarrel with Paris on that score) but Sumner says, who knows her well, that it is solely to make more money. The times are bad for that but our curiosity vanquishes the times. I would’nt for the world see Taglioni here – do disenchant the Sylphide created by the illusions & size of the grand Opera but Fanny dances in a genre less spiritual & is pretty enough to bear closer inspection. But she will miss so much the [p. 6] regulated thunder of applause which follows there the lightning of her steps as part of their element, we have had so little opportunity to discriminate [crossed out: te] in this kind of excellence; n’importe she will have a warm welcome & disenchant Celeste’s popularity. I suppose you have heard of Sumner’s good luck abroad – no American of his age, perhaps, has received more attention from great people – her modesty & intelligence have won this, &, as Mac says, his fraicheur d’âme – alias entheusiasm so rare a commodity is that in blasé London society. He is full of talk about the literary lions he has been a Daniel among & tis to be hoped his agreeableness wont grow rusty with his English clothes – as that of travellers’ is apt to. As a set off to your Longworthian “feasts of reason’ pork & poetic I will give you an énchantillon of those in my reach. I was invited l’autre jour to “pass the day” at the Ticknors – who are very civil to me, through Emmeline’s partiality to whom Mrs T. has been a sort of Mentor-ia from her mother-less youth up. Eh bien (I am getting the bad trick from assisting at Fanny Wright’s French lessons) of landing my discourse with Gallicisms à la Lovering) – a very agreeable day it turned out. Sewing & chat before dinner in Mrs T.’s elegant drawing-room heaped with the spoils of foreign travel & then the reading aloud of 3 or 4 of Miss Edgeworth’s letters to our hostess, so charming, so overflowing with Irish warmth, playful wit & shrewd discussions of matters & things. This was a true, literary ‘bonne bouche’ – so much fresher from her mind & heart – than when sullied by the breath of printer’s devils - & the formality of type. It is something to have a person in one’s town who corresponds with such a woman as Miss Edgeworth. Then Mr T. gets scores of letters from literati in all countries - & has seen nearly every body one would like to see. At dinner (by twilight these long days) he amused us with anecdotes of Mad de Stael, Gerilis, & many more great men & women he had known when first abroad. This was spiced by some rare bit of wit or drollery from his neice [sic] Miss Dwight, our most spirituelle damsel – an ever-bubbling fountain of clever sayings – with Mrs T’s strong, intelligent remarks – Em’s smiles, good soup & entremets – to fill the pauses. “Passable sport for the place” as you will agree with honest Piscator. Then we listened away the sun- [p. 7] set to Miss Anna’s admirable playing of the best, German music - & adjourned to the Library for the evg. that beautiful room more English & richer in taste & literary wealth than any other in the country. I feasted my eyes on many rare volumes – gave a school-girl pause over Byron with the author’s name & presentation of it to Mr T in the beginning, the most satisfactory kind of autograph - & got whelmed in a Dante as venerable as printing (within 10 years.) Like flies in honey here we all stuck fast & did nothing the rest of the evening but crawl from line to line spell-bound as the great Magician ever holds one. Tom brought in a Kentuckian youth (perhaps you know him a Mr Page, raves about the Carneal & Bullit) who was confirmed in his opinion of the “literary acquirements of the Boston ladies-;” believes probably they sing lullabies in Greek. I must say there are many most agreeable literary people here, men & women, with none of the pedantry elsewhere in the country when they emerge from dunce-dom. Do you know Pat Grant or Miss Bryant? if not will care little to know they have become one. I was at the wedding as she was a great school-friend of mine & pitied the pretty bride, with all of my heart, for countenancing the odious custom of courtsying to all the world an hour after she had been made all in all for one. Fanny Wright is here my consoleress, in my loneliness. Our Spring is very feverish – with tiresome heats & chills – now scorching us with mid-summer warmth & now freezing us with east winds. Some new Phaeton must be meddling là haut. A greenish vapour over the elms & the fruit trees poudrés with blossoms promise well however & a precocious Spring makes a poor summer as with humanity. On May-day we had the prettiest fête – thousands of little girls parading the green Common crowned with wreaths & marching in regal state – suspending finally a huge circlet of flowers from a tall May-pole & frolicking beneath – themselves the prettiest May-flowers of the season You would think I were very kind to write you so much if you heard the pathetic, pleading tones of my little King-Charles spaniel ‘Picciola’ to take him out into the bright sunshine! he seldom pleads in vain having a [p. 8 bottom] right to be petted as he was lost 2 years, coming from an Irish cabin to our drawing room & proving his aristocratic origin by at once selecting, on his return, the nicest damask ottoman for couch like a gypsey-stolen sprig of nobility. Do you know they still weep for King Charles? have the saddest of dog physiognomies & wear their long, silky ears like weepers. Emmeline & I are deep in Franklin’s life by way of regular reading & are much interested by the simplicity & frankness of his autobiography. Such a man! what many-sidedness! he was a century in himself for America; philosopher, patriot, philanthropist, his thorough judgement & Christian [p. 8 top] heart grasped all things. He wished to return in 50 yrs & take a peep of America, tis to be hoped he can – tis just 50 years since his death & what progress! as a printer, alone, what satisfaction to see himself in Sparks’ edition. Mac’s sister’s husband wrote a book on Babylon, most curious – he was the wonderful youth Sir James makes such honourable mention of in his letters. I have been reading Robert’s book lately (not the horrid abridged American edition) & have enjoyed the English much in these days of slang & Germanism. His Father’s letters suggest so much thought.
[p. 8 cross] Father & Tom have gone to Newport to engage us rooms there for the summer. Mary’s address is R. J. Mackintosh Esq Athenaeum London. Pray write her for your letters are always most acceptable. Your parellel of Taglioni & Fanny Essler is in our ‘daily’ to-day [crossed out: All send]. Excuse these disjointed scraps.
[p. 5 cross] You will think I have a literary mania – no such thing I am very lazy & am sorely wasting my days I fear. Hope you wont be exhausted by this dose, twill do for “Spring medecine”. [sic] Good bye; write as I do any thing that comes into your head and dont make too many apologies or compliments which take the room of better things. Wishing you “good luck” in law, love or – physic
I am yrs affly
Fan –
All send remembrances.
Is not this Alleghanian ball-rolling the funniest practical national joke ever set going. Harrison, your admired veteran, must have a Thorwaldsen to sculpture his Alexandrian conquests.
[annotations on address page, presumably notes by Jewett preparing response]
ADDRESSED: I.A. JEWETT ESQ. / [CROSSED OUT: CINCINNATI] COLUMBUS / OHIO.
POSTMARK: BOSTON / …. / CINC[INNA]TI . / O. / MAY / 2[5?]
ENDORSED: DOUBLE ONLY. / ANSD MAY 25 1840

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