File:Frances (Appleton) Longfellow to Mary (Appleton) Mackintosh, 18 July 1853 (e6cec298-5cc7-481b-8361-f32e26105b41).jpg

Manuscript letter

Archives Number: 1011/002.001-023#013

Nahant July 18th 1853.
Dear Mary,
By the last steamer papa wrote you of our great loss & spared me the pain of being the first to communicate what you will feel so deeply. It has quite overwhelmed us all as you can suppose – it was so sudden &
unlooked for, & dear uncle Sam seemed lately so well & more than likely to outlive many of us. Now the first shock is over, we can only feel grateful for his few hours illness & easy death, as he was so sensitive to pain a long malady would have been a cruel rack for him to be stretched upon, but poor Aunt Sam would have been glad to know he was dying, as she was actually lying on the outside of the bed by him, & heard his last breath without knowing it. The physicians think it must have been [p. 2] apoplexy I believe, tho at first the symptoms were of colic & he had certainly no little pain for he told papa at four in the afternoon (he died at 7) that he had never had so much pain in his life & wished he could die. I suppose papa wrote you the few particulars of his short illness from 12 till 7 on Tuesday the 12th, so I will write of what has occurred since. On Wednesday (the anniversary of our 10th wedding day & which we had looked forward to celebrate as jusslly as a “silver wedding” the sad news reached us. The next day Henry went to town & had a long talk with Maria & Aunt Sam who seemed glad to see him. The latter has been very excited, & desirous to talk freely, & they have managed to have some one constantly with her as when alone she became hysterical. She likes to dwell on the great sweetness & goodness of his character, on his great family of feeling, & feels that she has lost in him both husband & chil [p. 3] dren – for he has been such an hourly care of late years, & she has devoted herself to all his physical wants even to washing & dressing him with a mother’s tenderness. On Friday (the day of the funeral) we drove up in the carriage soon after breakfast, & after seeing papa & Harriot & Caroline Blatchford, who had just arrived, I went in to the house forever so sadly changed for us. Shapleigh graver than ever but severe as usual met me at the door – in the library I found the Bents & Spauldings & Aunt Aaron all summoned to further sorrow, & then Uncle Wm took me up to see Aunt Sam who was seated in the front drawing room, next the one so familiar to us. She talked freely, but in great grief as Maria brought in her mourning clothes, & said the time seemed so long, after her constant care. I begged her to find something to occupy her constantly after the reaction from this excitement next [crossed out: was over] came & she said she would. Dear faithful Maria I hardly saw, but she was active & self-forgetful as ever. [p. 4] The most trying thing for me was to go into the next room & see the green morris chair vacant, & the table by it with the bell & books just as he left them. I did not look upon his dead face for I could not destroy my happy memory of him in his beautiful old age, & so I shall think of him always, with the same freshness of color & glory of silver locks crowning him like a halo in the world where no changes come. Of late years his house has seemed to me more like a home than ever, & it is hard to think of any different picture, but his serene image will hallow it always. How glad you will be you were here so lately. It was so well Miss H’s visit was over, & that papa had not gone to Pittsfield which he was to have done before. The funeral service was performed by Mr Gannett in the Stone Chapel, with music, a crowded church of course, I saw a few of children next me, probably the Warren & Chapel for whom Uncle Sam had done much & who came to bring him flowers & sing him hymns only the week before on the 4th of July. Mr Paige had a police force to keep the aisle & porch free for us which was a comfort, & it was all soon over. We were [p. 5] anxious not to leave the children over night so drove back here (& I could not have borne the fatigue of more it was already much for me) while the family went to Mt Auburn where I believe Mr Gannett made a touching prayer & poor Aunt Sam fairly broke down. I give you all these details because I know you will value them, & please send this to Tom as I am not able to write him tho’ I owe him an answer for his last beautiful letter. I wish he could have been here, but am glad he is persevering in regaining his health.
Mrs Bennett was not well enough to come & we much regretted Mr Peabody should be away – it would have been such a comfort to Aunt Sam especially as she hardly knows Mr Gannett. Aker’s bust I value trebly now, & the Daguerreotype taken in his rooms is invaluable.
We are very comfortable here & enjoy our daily drives on this beautiful beach & thro’ picturesque Swampscot. It seems to us far finer than Newport & our quiet life far happier. The children are wild [p. 6] with spirits, & baby is out of doors all day following the boys every where. We have found a nice school for them in a large airy room facing the sea under the care of Miss Bulfinch, the daughter of our landlady here when you were with us. They seem to like it & only complain of the youth & scarcity of the other scholars. Sally Oakey, who is near us looking so fresh & pretty as ever, sends 3 little girls & a boy there, & one more I believe complete the school. We have taken her to drive (having brought down our Cambridge carriage) & found her very agreeable. Her oldest daughter Annie Newton is a nice girl tho’ not pretty & has her father’s taste for painting & her mother’s for music. Her oldest boy Dan 11 yrs old (with 7 younger) Charley likes well to play with. Some Indiens [sic] have tents here which is a resource for them. Mrs Paige sends me pretty flowers & we often see her.
Uncle Sam’s will is in the paper but fortunately only generally. 200,000 for the widow & the same sum for divers charities. Mr Peabody 1,000 & the servants [p. 7] the same to be distributed according to her judgment but papa may write you of this as he is one of the Executors with Uncle Wm & Mr Bowditch. I hope Maria has a bountiful portion for her faithful devotion. As you are already in mourning you will have no change to make. What a number of familiar faces gone this past year from Beacon St. & its neighborhood, but when is not Death the most familiar face & so it should be. To me the separation of the two worlds is yearly more transparent, & I feel that if we ourselves are only “spirits clad in veils” still slighter are those that conceal from us our dear friends of the blessed Kingdom. There is an electric telegraph always at work between us & them & far nearer are they than any separated by earthly distances. Let us, like the sacred mountain of Dante, tremble with joy & not fear when another joins the happy company & feel lifted higher on our own path by that angelic sympathy. The saddest thing is to see our own [p. 8] sins by the light of their principied eyes – but this too it is good for us to bear.
Papa had a letter from Robert by the Merlin in which he seems very uncertain of the future still, but says if he returns to England he shall take us on his way. I do hope he will get something that thoroughly interests him in a healthier climate.
I am very glad you have a “comfortable nurse” & hope she will take the best care of you as well as the children. Mrs Smilie’s trunk has arrived & was opened by papa to report to the Custom House what it was. It shall be safely kept for her orders. What a brave, strong little Queen you have to appear on horseback, so few months after her confinement, before so many troops. As I write all the carriages & fair equestrians are passing by for their sunset airing & the boys are rejoicing in the yard over a tent erected for their play house. Fare well. God bless you & the dear children. With Henry’s love
ever y raff
Fanny E.L.
[p. 1 cross] Harriot I am happy to say has made up with Aunt Sam in her sorrow & seems penitent –
There is an unusual grief at the loss of such a benefactor. The shipping was at half-mast & the bell tolling & general respect shown.
Please send us yr exact address. I shall send as the last to Temly on a venture. Papa sent his last to D[???] – thinking Mrs Wedgwood out of town.

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