File:Frances (Appleton) Longfellow to Robert East Apthorp, 17 November 1836 (3064a854-0ffa-4408-b24b-465f5f3bcdda).jpg

Manuscript letter

Archives Number: 1011/002.001-006#004

Paris, Rue Rivoli. Nov 17th 1836.

Dear Robert, I received your truly venerable epistle of April! a few weeks ago at Mayence where Tom I believe wrote you all the mystery of its non-appearance that had so puzzled you & how near they all came to being entombed alive for all time in the recesses of Mr Flottenguer’s cabinets or where-ever he consigns unclaimed property. No less for their antiquity I thank you. Like the Lasbrious very old news becomes new. We were entirely in the dark what were your plans & projects or in what part of the World you had pitched your tent I will confess I was amazed when I heard you were actually settled down to business; anchored at last in a haven too stagnant for your roving tastes as I supposed!! But I am glad of it. With the most sublime duenna air I could talk [crossed out: most] eloquently & sagely of the advantages of a contented spirit & [crossed out: that] tho an ideal existence is very charming or those whose hearts sufficiently appreciate the blessedness of their earthly lot whose friends & home make the stamina of their pleasure & who can build castles in the air & not wish to live in them yet on the whole while we live in the world we must live like other people. & I have come to the conclusion in my old age that a jog-trot pace is as well as any other to get thro respectably this “wearisome wicked world”. One so likes to moralize to others what they dont [sic] ½ feel & never act upon! For myself I consider contentment the source of all happiness (if that be not too bright a word to apply to a passive state) but when one happens to be bored with an ardent imagination or a morbid temperament it is precious hard to find & keep. I was going to have [p. 2] had the impertinence to say that I think you have a little too much of this last to enjoy the comfort of tranquility – but nothing like activity & clashing with men & things, too busily for much thought, wears away this consuming dire. Nothing is so hard in this life as to look with charity on the people amongst whom we are daily thrown: so many little weaknesses & follies & what we call heartlessness peep out to disgust us – even the wisest & best hardly escape jarring at times on our finely wrought sensibilities. But alas for poor woman nature how is an it always be engaged “en grande toilette” ready for the inspection of all eyes. Must it not ever show more or less the stain of its mortality? I wish (as a sister-Mentor) that you would mingle more with society – you say “it affords you no pleasure” - Revolting enough to be sure is mere fashionable society (especially such a N. York, I should think) but, still, more with us than here ½ this tiresome finality & inspire gaiety are but a masque put on with the ball-dress – many an honest warm heart lurks under the tinsel. A ball-room is a hot-house, an unnatural atmosphere where every thing conforms. Deep, pure feelings expressed would startle us there as out of place. I always feel sorry when I hear gentlemen decide their opinion of a girl’s character & capabilities from the one-sided view of them they get there: knowing well from my little experiences how falsely one acts out their immortal nature in the distraction of such a pantomime. Heigho! what am I coming to! what a homily!! This is enough to weigh down the balance of my negligences for the last six months. I intended to commence my letter with apologies for leaving you so long ignorant of our whereabouts & enjoyments but they are things I detest for I never can make them with a good conscience. To day is the anniversary of our departure from our native shores. What a year! How wonderfully thoughts, feelings, actions can be compressed in one short space of time & country which with us are filtered thro a life time. I must [p. 3] say I feel rather sad that it is all (or almost) over; such years of anticipation realized in one; & here we are again returned to our starting-point & all that I have seen seems so much of a dream – already. This has been the cure of my discontentedness however & never did I love or appreciate home so much as now. This temporary one here bids fair to be delightful: we have the feeling of home-comfort already in a charming suite of apartments in our old nest (Hotel Meurice) & nearly a week’s familiarity has not dimmed their fascinations. With sight-seeing happily “killed” last winter – the shoals of shopping in a hazy perspective & the whole winter before us, we take things quietly enough - & sit evening after evening buried in our books around our cosy table, as unconscious that Paris is all alive around us & that 20 theatres are existing, “bouche béaute,” to dazzle & astound. Not even Taglioni, tho yet unseen, has been able to charm us out of this luxury of rest. I have not said a word to you of your travels; it is an appalling subject to meddle with. I can only say I enjoyed every thing, enjoyable with the enthusiasm of my nature – rather more, perhaps, than reasonable people would think quite rational – but damsels are not condemned to be always rational at 18! I heard some delicious music in Italy & made the discovery that the love of Italian music, at least Italian voices, is not an acquired taste; it needs a scientific brain to ope the portal for its thrilling melody. The opera at Florence was an ever-increasing passion. The other famous operas were vexationaly closed, so we were very unfortunate in this aspect. To think that Malibran should die before we had a chance to hear her! I insist upon not consoling myself by believing that Grisi does not sing ½ as well! The way with all disappointments. Did not Tom write you a line from Switzerland? That is the country one wears nearest their heart after all, because there is none like it. Those glorious, cloud-capped mountains awake more elevated (dont [sic] spoil this sublime speech by seeing that a pun) thoughts & nobler emotions than – what? the Grand [p. 4] Opera maybe? imagining your range of the “sublime & beautiful”!! Not Lablaches thunder rivals that of the falling avalanche, not the scarf of Titania or the eyes of all her faries [sic] can compare in celestial hue with that bia in the crevice of a glacier!!!! -- Would I not gain a living as authoress of “Tourist’s Guide”? But over all this magic, anxiety, decay & death have thrown a tinge of sadness & there is a green corner by the blue Rhine where many aching hearts have bound the circle of their thoughts. I meant to write much to you about my sweet cousin William for the unsullied purity of his Character & gentle sweetness of his disposition so ennobled his decay, shed such an atmosphere of heavenly hope & cheerful resignation around his last moments that (if you have ever known him) any particulars would be full of interest. I little thought when we left home that the presentiments which I took for myself would become a prophecy for one of us (& one apparently so full of health & life) before we returned. I mention this only because it is the sole bit of superstition I ever indulged in. And I was again called to breathe comfort & to hope to a gentle spirit hovering between two worlds but Wm was all for himself that others often are. From first to last he saw & felt his danger & met it with a Christian fortitude which was truly astonishing. We have just received letters from home, announcing their reception of this overwhelming news. My Aunt & Uncle suffered intensely with the first blastings of all their hopes, for till the last, tho’ they were confident from our Italian letters that he could not live long, they had hoped he would die at home – my Uncle to whom he was all in all is as resigned & now calm. Pen, ink & paper are failing me – 3 very good hints for a finale to this lengthy epistle. I am very glad you have heard that your friend Mr Slocum has accomplished thus far his adventurous journey. You quietly say he is to return by Kamskata & Russia! What a mad project! Why doesnt [sic] he make the long-desired passage of the North Pole at once & save all future Capt Backs the trouble of writing stupid books about the regions of “thick ribbed ice”. Was not a 7 weeks fever at a stupid German town, victim- [p. 1 cross] ized by a lazy German doctor a charming finale to our continental journey? Afflicted too by no Christian malady but a regular concoction of the “bas Rhin” & losing all the fine month of October & the Rhine too for whose sake alone had we ventured into that barbarous land. If you could have seen the “gout” with which I devoured the first French dinner after the horrors of the German ‘cuisine’ were escaped from, you would have said, Ude himself could not desire a greater compliment to his dishes. Our convalescence was very rapid considering that I lost all my strength utterly – and had the pleasure of relearning to walk &c. Mary was better off & has now regained all her usual wellbeing. Every one expresses amaze that we have so recently been ill for we are both on the way to uncommon health. Tom & Father had they had the worst of it at Mayence having however for consolation a billiard table & a theatre, but seeing no one all that time but the Dr & the Banker. A good safety-valve, this, for a travellers enthusiasm; mine descended to zero! Paris is deluged with Americans. To walk under our arcade here is as annoying for conntinual bowry as Beacon St on a sunny day. The Walshes give soirées every Monday & no doubt muster no small “gathering” – Miss Anna (did you ever hear her?) is less of a nightingale this side the water, having lost a portion of her voice in crossing, but it is coming back. We have seen the Sears, who are well & well off, tho’ at the worlds end. Signor Allyne still revol- [p. 2 cross] ves in the dangerous orbit of Miss Ellen’s beaux yeux. Harriets marriage is yet unhinted at. 20th Last night I went with Tom to the Opera Comique & was delighted to recognize that charming air “Toujoui” I always fancied so much. Tom is in excellent health & prays daily to escort us to the Rochore; retains his moustache & is getting civilized in the hands of Parisian tailors. Seems to be quite captivated just now with the fair Ellen Sears. 1500 Americans in Paris it is said! Mr Honeywell looks disconsolate enough & his wife is too tender a subject for any to venture inquiries upon. Again let me repeat my felicitation that you are so reconciled to your city life. I heard from Margaret the other day that you had kindly visited our old pensionners. Doing good is a source of happiness which drives all clouds & ennui – is it not? Nothing makes us so ashamed of our petty troubles as the real widows of so many excellent people whose piety & true refinement should place them many degrees higher on the slippery ladder if worth could balance gold. Adieu to any more moralizing. Remember me affly to your Parents & believe me
yr friend, & sister
Fanny

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