File:Frances (Appleton) Longfellow to Mary (Longfellow) Greenleaf, 18 March 1849 (aa843a91-c633-4132-994f-c5b6707d1919).jpg

Manuscript letter

Archives Number: 1011/002.001-019#003

Cambridge March 18th 1849.
Dear Mary,
Most welcome news from you, by your own pen, for we were by no means satisfied with your long silence at the very time we were most anxious to hear of your well-being, &, although a few days before your letter arrived, Caroline Greenleaf had been here & assured us all was well with you, still we were very impatient to know how you bore that season of alarm & danger which threw its shadow as far as New England. We had just heard too of the death of poor Eugene Weld, who fell a martyr to his duty, in devoting himself to the sick, but, we were glad to learn, received every kindness from the hands of some kind friend, - who recorded his worth in a newspaper his sister sent Henry. it must be, as you say it is, a very peculiar & solemn experience to live in a city visited by pestilence, but if we only gave all [p. 2] diseases one name such an experience is ever with us – the great mystery of death as well as of birth is perpetually going on, & as it is birth into a far happier world than this, why is it not a happier thought to us? why do mourners go about the streets, & rejoicings only surround the cradle so soon to become the bier. I well known why – but have been often struck with the power of Swedenborgian faith which seems to recognize death in a more Christian manner than any other.
I should much enjoy a peep at you one of these fine Spring mornings & should like of all things a breakfast al fresco under you own figs & vine leaves. I sympathise with all your housekeeperian perplexities, & can imagine African machinery must be as difficult to keep in order as Hibernian. I often think of “ma chère mère,” in Miss Bremer’s “Neighbours,” whose practice it was to let all run on as smoothly as it could, for a while, & then have a grand blow-up, or [p. 3] setting to rights. Not to wear off the edge of ones nerves & temper wholly I find it also, necessary, to have a long patience & then an grand revival or Presidents message. Americans when once organized can be trusted, & like to work methodically, but not so the erratic Irish. Stephen has been with us about three months – but intends shortly to sail for California, as engineer not gold-digger. As he has come to this resolution I am sorry he did not carry it into effect earlier, as he has a long voyage before him. It is so expensive by Panama he prefers the Horn. Marianne is not far, I believe, from her accouchement. Annie writes us very rarely. Sam is well, by a late letter, & hoping his year of duty has not been in vain. Cambridge is in its gala dress of mind – a few birds songs have been heard & the trees show signs of life. We find our neighbors the Parsons’ very agreeable but fear we shall soon lose them; they talk of building near Mary Dixwell. Aunt Sally has been persuaded by her family to go to a boarding [p. 4] house in Boston. She has been very ill all winter & needs friendly care. Eliza too has left her – her health having suffered from her exposure & fatigue o’nights. Mrs Felton has a daughter a few days old. Poor Felton has been laid up with a dislocated shoulder but is now out again. Young Dr Howe has lately married a sister of Mrs James Lowell & they are established in the house Mrs Pierce once had, near us. We like our new President very much, & as Felton takes off his shoulders the worst part of his duties, with the title of Regent, I hope he will be more cheerful under the responsibility than his predecessor. The Everetts remain in the old mansion & Sparks in his own. Madame is to be confined in April. They have had no reception as yet, but this year Commencement will come before vacation. Since this event the greatest excitement of the winter has been Mrs Butler’s Reading of the Merchant of Venice. Dr Webster was in a great flutter about it, & even Aunt Sally rose from her bed to go. The Lyceum was marvellously [sic] crowded an hour before hand, & every body was delighted. Henry [p. 5] escorted Mrs. B. to her reading-desk, while I took possession of a chair I had engaged some days before! The fair reader was arrayed in white-watered poplin, with a deep berthe & tricolored knot in front, & looked very well. Her face is to me very handsome in certain expressions. She gave with her usual astonishing power Shylock, & with exquisite feeling & sweetness Portia & Jessica, her face heralding every character before she spoke. Jewett, who has been in town some time, came out to hear her, it being almost hopeless to get tickets while she read there. Henry & I only lost three readings out of the twelve, however, securing ours in advance. It was the highest public pleasure I ever enjoyed – to hear night after night these wonderful creations, so full of wisdom & beauty, read by such a voice. Her genius enables her to be each character in turn, & the astonishing compass of her voice is equal to all. She brings out fresh touches of beauty, feeling the poetry & truth of the characters so keenly, & by a tone interprets much overlooked meaning. In New [p. 6] York she is exciting the same furore as here, & will, I hope, secure a fortune for herself. This is a much greater triumph of her genius than any acting of mere female parts could be, & much more to her liking. In fact she detests acting & always did. But to return to her evening here. After the reading she came & supped with us & a few gentlemen, very pleasantly, at the close of which I presented her with a bouquet & Henry with a sonnet. At which she was much overcome. Her affectionate nature is very susceptible to kindness - & her Boston reception was very grateful to her. “But so much given me abroad & so little at home” she said to me, with great feeling, contrasting her domestic sorrows wither public triumphs. I trust she will now get money enough to satisfy a darling wish of her heart to buy a cottage on a lovely lake at Lenox, & pass the rest of her days in quiet, surrounded by friends. But, of course, she pines for her children & how her case will be decided is not yet known.
[p. 7] My sister Mary is possibly on her way to England, by this time, her husband having thought it best for her health, & that of the children, to send them to that temperate climate, & he is also anxious to have Ronny’s education begun, which it can hardly be in the West Indies. I hope he will get some home appointment before long. My brother Tom has also slipped away again. We have not yet decided where to go this summer. We have thought of Newport, but I shrink from the perpetual visiting, dressing, parties & crowds of people one cannot wholly escape. Still the sea, somewhere, I think will attract me. The children have been very well, except colds, for which I feel especially gratefully as scarlet-fever has been ravaging around us fearfully. My cousin Sam Appleton has just lost his little baby, - she was born about a month later than mine, & lost her mother, you may remember, [crossed out: just] a year ago. She seemed rightly to be long to her, & is, I trust, now in her arms. Mrs Stephen Perkins’ death was a sad one, just after her confinement, leav [p. 8] ing a daughter behind her as comfort to her husband, who has again returned to his long widowerhood. I went to see Aunt Sally yesterday, (since I began my note,) & she says she cannot desert Cambridge; she loves it too much! It is really melancholy to see such a wreck of humanity as she has now become, with all its weaknesses most prominent. We have joined the Book Club & got some nice books. Macaulay we have only read in part, but have been much interested in Mrs Jamesons Legendary Art – the lives of the Saints & Martyrs – most touching & elevating records & giving out a new meaning; for it was once a sacred duty to paint & sculpture, & was accomplished between prayers & fastings & with pious aspirations which must have added much both to the artist & his work. No wonder modern pictures are so tame & lifeless. They were once the people’s books, & would now be welcome to many who could understand them better than words. I hope some day to see our churches again enriched with them, when the fear of Popery is extinguished with the Pope. Charley & Erny (who is as lively & strong as can be, & calls himself “mamma’s [p. 1 cross] humming-bird”) send many kisses to Mary – Jim. Charley has mastered his letters, but not his temper, which sometimes alarms me, but he is quickly repentant – as also Erny, who has a very cunning way of embracing & kissing after being naughty. With kind love to James, ever yr affte
Fanny EL.
Stephen & Henry send love

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