this miserable island at all; for I fear, even if
Madeira quite rids thee of thy cough, England
will at once give it back. But Elizabeth has
sent thee a certain article which is vouched for.
by numerous certificates, as a certain cure for all
coughs and affections of the lungs. So far as I
can ascertain its structure, it consists of some lay-
245
ers of quilted flannel, covered with an oilcloth;
and the whole thing is not more than three inches
square. It is worn on the breast, next the skin,
and, being so small, it would not be perceptible
under the thinnest dress. In order to make it ef
ficacious, it is to be moistened with some liquor
from a bottle which accompanied it: and it keeps
the person comfortably warm, and appears to
operate like a charm, and makes a little Madeira
of its own about the wearer. If thou wast not
so very naughty if thou wouldst consent to be
benefitted by anything but homeopathy here in
this little box is health and joy for us! yes, the
possibility of sitting down together in *a mud-
puddle, or in the foggiest hole in England, and
being perfectly well and happy. Oh, mine own-
est love, I shall clap this little flannel talisman
upon thy dearest bosom, the moment thou dost
touch English soil. Every instant it shall be
shielded by the flannel. I have drawn the size
and thickness of it, above.
We are plodding on here, Julian and I, in the
same dull way. The old boy, however, is happy
enough; and I must not forget to tell thee that
Mary W. has taken him into her good graces,
and has quite thrown off another boy, who, Jul
ian says, has heretofore been her "adorer." I
246
told Julian that he must expect to be cast aside
in favor of somebody else, by-and-bye. Then
1 shall tell her that I am very much ashamed of
her," said he. "No." I answered; "you must
bear it with a good grace and not let her know
that you are mortified." "But why should n t I
let her know it, it I j/// mortified?" asked he;
and really, on consideration, 1 thought there was
more dignity and self-respect in his view of the
case, than in mine; so I told him to act as he
thought right. But I don t think he will be
much hurt or mortified; for his feelings are mar
vellously little interested, after all, and he sees
her character and criticises her with a shrewdness
that quite astonishes me. He is a wonderfully
observant boy; nothing escapes his notice; noth
ing, hardly, Deceives his judgment. His intellect
is tertainly very remarkable, and it is almost a
miracle to see it combined with so warm and true
and simple a heart. But his heart admits very
few persons into it, large though it be. He is
not, I think, of a diffusive, but of a concentrative
tendency, both as regards mind and affections.
In Grace Greenwood s last "Little Pilgrim,"
there is a description of her new baby ! ! ! in re
sponse to numerous inquiries which, she says,
have been received from her subscribers. I won-
247
drr she did not think it necessary to be brought
to bed in public, or, at least, in presence of a
committee of the subscribers. My dearest, I can
not enough thank God, that, with a higher and
deeper intellect than any other woman, thou hast
never forgive me the base idea! never prosti
tuted thyself to the public, as that woman has,
and as a thousand others do. It dors seem to me
to deprive women of all delicacy. Women are
too good for authorship, and that is the reason it
spoils them so.
The Queen of England is said to be going to
Lisbon, this summer; so perhaps thou wouldst
rather stay there and be introduced to her, than
come hither and be embraced by me The O Sul-
livans would not miss seeing her, I suppose, for
all the husbands on earth. Dearest, I do not
like those three women very much; and, incieed,
they cannot be good and amiable, nor wise, since,
after living with thee for months, they have not
made thee feel that they value thee above all
things else. Neither am I satisfied with Mr.
Welsh s turning thee out of his house.
Mr 4 Dallas, our new Ambassador, arrived at
Liverjxx)! a few days ago; and 1 had to be civil
to him and his son, and to at least five ladies
whom he brought with him. He seems to be a
248
good old gentleman enough, and of venerable as
pect; but as regards ability, I should judge Mr.
Buchanan to be worth twenty of him. Dost thou
know that we are going to have a war? It is
now quite certain; and I hope I shall be ordered
out of the country in season to meet thee at Ma
deira. Dost thou not believe me?
March igth. Ownest beloved, this morning
came thy letter of the Qth, by the African
steamer. I knew it could not be much longer de
layed, for my heart was getting intolerably hun
gry. Oh, my wife, thou hast been so ill! And
thou art blown about the world, in the midst of
rain and whirlwind! It was a most foolish pro
ject of O Sullivan s (as all his projects are) to
lead thee from his comfortable fireside, to that
comfortless Madeira. And thou sayest, or Una
says, that the rainy season is just commencing
there, and that this month and the next are the
two worst months of the year! Thou never
again shalt go away anywhere without me. My
two arms shall be thy tropics, and my breast thy
equator; and from henceforth forever I will keep
thee a great deal too warm, so that thou shalt
try out "Do let me breathe the cool outward
air for a moment !" But I will not.
As regards teaching Julian French, I wish I
249
had found ;i master for him when we first left
thee; but there seemed to he so many difficulties
in making him really and seriously study, with
out companions, and without constant supervis
ion, that I let it alone, thinking that, on the con
tinent, all lost time would quickly he made up.
And now it will he so little while before thy re
turn, that I doubt whether much would be ac
complished in the meantime. It is very. difficult
to get him really interested in any solitary study;
and as he could not take more than two lessons in
a week, and would have nobody to practise pro-
nounciation with, in the intervals, I think, the
result would be only an ineffectual commence
ment. I have not myself the slightest tact or
ability in making him study, or in compelling
him to do anything that he is not inclined to do
of his own accord; and to tell thee the truth, he
has pretty much his own way in everything. At
least, such is my impression; but thou hast so
*>ften told me of the strength of my will (of
which I am not in the least conscious) that it is
very possible I may have been ruling him with a
rod of iron, all the time. It is true, I have a sort
of inert and negative power, with which I should
strongly interpose to keep him out of mischief;
but I am always inclined to let him wander
250
around at his own sweet will, as long as the path
is a safe one. Thou hast incomparably greater
faculty of command than I have.
I think he must remain untaught rill thou com-
est back to take the helm. Thou wilt rind him ;i
good and honest boy, healthy in mind, and
healthier in heart than when he left thee: ready
to begin his effectual education as soon as cir
cumstances will permit. Let this suffice. In
body, too, he never was better in his life than
now; and he is a real little rampant devil for
physical strength. I rind it an arduous business,
now-a-days, to take him across my knee and
spank him; and unless I give up the attempt be
times, he will soon be the spanker, and his poor
father the spankee.
I am going to dine at Mr. Bright s, this even
ing. He has often besought me that Julian
might come and spend a few days at Sandheys;
and I think I shall let him go, and take the op
portunity to run up to London. What vicissi
tudes of country and climate thou hast run
through, while I have never once stirred out of
this mud and fog of Liverpool! After return
ing from London, and as Spring advances, I
mean to make little excursions of a day or two
with Julian.
251
Oh, dearest, deiirest, interminably and infin
itely dearest I don t know how to end that
ejaculation. The use of kisses and caresses is,
that they supersede language, and express what
there are no words for. I need them at this mo
ment need to give them, & to receive them.
OWNEST.
TO MRS. HAWTHORNE
32, St. Anne s Place, London, April ; th , 1856
Best wife in the world, here I am in London;
tor I found it quite impossible to draw any more
breath in that abominable Liverpool without al
lowing myself a momentary escape into better
air. I could not take Julian with me; and so I
disposed of him, much to his own satisfaction,
first with the Brights, then with the Channings;
and I have now been here more than a week, and
shall remain till Thursday. The old boy writes
to me in the best of" spirits; and I rather think he
can do without me better than I can without
him; for I really find I love him a little, and
that his society is one of my necessities, includ
ing, as he does, thyself and everything else that I
love. Nevertheless, my time has been so much
occupied in London, that I have not been able to
brood over the miseries of heart-solitudes. They
have found me out, these I Condon people, and I
believe I should have engagements for every day,
253
and two or three a day, if I staid here through the
season. They thicken upon me, the longer I re
main. To-night, I am to dine with the Lord
Mayor, and shall have to make a speech!!
Good Heavens! I wish I might have heen
spared this. Tomorrow night, I shall dine in the
House of Commons, with a member of Parlia
ment, in order to hear a debate. In short, I have
been lioni/ed, and am still being lioni/ed; and
this one experience will be quite sufficient for
me. I find it something between a botheration
and a satisfaction.
Oh, my dearest, I feel that try heart will be
very heavy, as soon as I get back to Liverpool;
for thy cough is not getting better, and our dear
little Rosebud has been ill! And I was not
there! And I do not know and shall not know
for many days what may have since happened
to her and thee! This is very hard to bear. We
ought never, never, to have separated. It is most
unnatural. It cannot be borne. How strange
that it must be borne!
Most beloved, I have sent down to Liverpool
for Elizabeth s talisman and medicine-bottles; for
Mr. Marsh is now in I^ondon, and perhaps he will
be able to take them to thee. I fear, however, that
fhey will not reach me in time to be delivered to
254
him, and 1 shall be afraid to trust them to any but
a private conveyance. It they come, I hope thou
wilt give them a fair trial, at least, it the weather
still continues cold and wet. What a wretched
world we live in! Not one little nook or corner
where thou canst draw a wholesome breath! In
all our separation, I have never once felt so utterly
desperate as at this moment. I c\innof bear it.
Everybody inquires about thee. I spent yester
day (Sunday) at Mrs. S. C. Hall s country-seat,
and she was very affectionate in her inquiries, and
gave me this very sheet of paper on which I am
now writing also some violets, which I have lost,
though I promised faithfully to send them to Ma
deira. Dear me, I wish I had a little bit of senti
ment ! Didst thou ever read any of her books?
She is a very good and kind person, and so is her
husband, though he besmeared me with such
sweetness of laudation, that I feel all overbestuck,
as after handling sweetmeats or molasses-candy.
There is a limit of decorum which ought not to be
over-stept.
I met Miss Cushman, on Saturday, in the
Strand, and she asked me to dinner, but I could
not go, being already engaged to meet another
actress! I have a strange run of luck as regards
actresses, having made friends with the three most
prominent ones since I came to London, and I find
them all excellent people; and they all inquire for
thee! ! Mrs. Bennoch, too, wishes to see thee very
much. Unless thou comest hack in very vigorous
health, it will never do for us to take lodgings in
Ix)ndon for any considerahle time, because it
would be impossible to keep quiet. Neither shall
I dare to have thee come back to Liverpool, ac
cursed place that it is! We will settle ourselves
in the South of England, until the aufumn, and*
then (unless Eli/abeth s talisman works miracles)
we must be gone. The trip to Scotland, I fear,
must be quite given up. I suppose, as regards cli
mate, Scotland is only a more intensely disagree
able England.
Oh, my wife, I do want thee so intolerably.
Nothing else is real, except the bond between thee
and me. The people around me are but shadows.
I am myself but a shadow, till thou takest me in
thy anus, and convertest me into substance. Till
thou comest back, I do but walk in a dream.
I think a great deal about poor little Rosebud,
and find that I loved her about ten million times
as much as I had any idea of. Really, dearest
wife, I have a heart, although, heretofore, thou
hast had great reason to doubt it. But it yearns,
and throbs, and burns with a hot fire, for thee, and
256
for the children that have grown out of our loves.
Una, too! I long unutterably to see her, and can
not bear to think that she has been growing out of
her childhood, all the time, without my witnessing
each day s change. But the first moment, when
we meet again, will set everything right. Oh,
blessed moment!
Well, dearest, I must close now, and go in
search of Mr. Marsh, whom I have not yet been
able to see. God bless thee! I cannot see why
He has permitted so much rain, and such cold
winds, where thou art.
THINE OWNEST, OWNEST.
I have no time to read over the above, and
know not what I have said, nor left unsaid.
TO MRS. HAW! HORN E
Liverpool, Novr. 24 th , 1858
Dciirest ffV/r,
Your letter by the steamer of the igth has come.
and has given me delight far beyond what I can
tell thee. There never were such letters in the
world as thine; but this, no doubt, I have already
told thee over and over. What pleasantly sur
prises me is, that the beauty of thy hand-writing
. has all come back, in these Lisbon letters, and they
seem precisely the same, in that respect, that my
little virgin Dove used to write me.
Before this reaches thee, thou wilt have received
the trunks by the Cintra, and also, the sad news
of the death of O Sullivan s brother. I shall
wait with the utmost anxiety for thy next letter.
Do not thou sympathise too much. Thou art
wholly mine, and must not overburthen thyself
with anybody s grief not even that of thy dear
est friend next to me. I wish I could be with
thee.
2*8
I" am impatient for thec to be well. Thou
shouldst not trust wholly to the climate, but must
take medical advice in Lisbon, if it is to be had
otherwise, Dr. Wilkinson s. Do take cod-liver
oil. It is the only thing I ever really had any
faith in; and thou wilt not take it. Thou dost
confess to growing thin. Take cod-liver oil, and,
at all events, grow fat.
I suppose this calamity of the O Sullivans will
quite shut them up from the world, at present.
Julian thrives, as usual. He has lately been
out to dine with a boy of about his own age, in
the neighborhood. His greatest daily grievance
is, that he is not allowed to have his dinner at
$y 2 , with the rest of the family, but dines at one,
and sups alone at our dinner time. He never has
anything between meals, unless it be apples. I
believe I told thee, in my last, that I had giveaup
the thought of sending him to school, for the pres
ent. It would be so great and hazardous a change,
in the whole system of his life, that I do not like to
risk it as long as he continues to do well. The in
tercourse which he holds with the people of Mrs.
Blodgett s seems to me of a healthy kind. They
make a playmate of him, to a certain extent, but
do him no mischief; whereas, the best set of boys
in the world would infallibly bring him harm as
259
well as good. His manner:; improve, and I do not
at all despair of seeing him grow up a gentleman.
It is singular how completely all his affections of
the head have disappeared; and that, too, with
out any prescriptions from Dr. Dryasdust. I en
courage him to make complaints of his health,
rather than the contrary; but he always declares
himself quite well. The difficulty heretofore has
been, I think, that he had grown morbid for want
of a wider sphere.
Miss Williams is very unwell, and, for the last
two or three days, has had several visits from the
Doctor; being confined to her bed, and in great
pain. I don t know what her disorder i>; but she-
is excessively nervous, and is made ill by anything
that agitates her. The rumor of war with Amer
ica confined her for several days.
Give my most affectionate regards to the O Sul-
livans. I never felt half so grateful to anybody,
as I do to them, for the care they take of thee. It
would make a summer climate of Nova Zembla,
to say nothing of Lisbon.
THINE OWNKST,
P.S. I enclose the gold dollar.
260
TO MRS. HAWTHORNE
Liverpool, Deer. I I th , 1858
Dearest,
This despatch for O Sullivan has just reached
me; and I do not know whether there will be time
to send it by the steamer that sails to-day.
Your letters, written immediately after the re
ceipt of the sad news, did not reach me till yester
day; while those by the Southampton steamer,
written afterwards, arrived here days ago. Those
Liverpool steamers are not nearly such sate medi
ums as those by Southampton; and no letters of
importance ought, to be trusted to them.
Mrs. Blodgett will buy the articles required by
Mrs. O Sullivan, and likewise the soap for you,
and have them in readiness for the next Liverpool
steamer.
We are quite well (Julian and I) and as con
tented as we can expect to be, among strangers,
and in a continual cold fog. I have heard no pri
vate news from America, since I wrote last.
26 r
I have not a moment s time to write Una; but
kiss her for me, and Rosebud too. Neither can I
tell thee, in this little moment, how infinitely I
love thee.
THINEST.
P.S. Tell O Sullivan that Mr. Miller (Des
patch Agent) will allow the postage of this pack
age in his account with Government.
262
TO MRS. HAWTHORNE
Liver pool* .Deer. 13^,1858
Dearest*
I wrote HUM a brief note by a strainer from this
port on the nth, with O Sullivan s despatches.
Nothing noteworthy has happened since ; and noth
ing can happen in this dawdling* lite of ours. The
best thing about our Liverpool days is, that they
are very short; it is hardly morning before night
conies again. t na says that the weather in Lis
bon is very cold. So it is here- that searching.
spiteful cold that creeps all through one s miser
able flesh; and if I had to cross the river, as last
winter, I do believe I should drown myself in de
spair. Nevertheless, Julian and I are in excellent
condition, though the old boy often grumblcs-
4t lt is very cold, papa! 1 as he takes his morning
bath.
The other day, speaking of his first advent into
this world, Julian said, "I don t remember how I
* On reading over my letter, I cannot make out this word.
263
came, clown from Heaven ; hut 1 m very glad I
happened to tumble into so good a family!" He
was serious in this; and it is certainly very queer,
that, at nearly ten years old, he should still accept
literally our first explanation of how he came to
he among us.
Thy friend John (THara still vagabondises
about the street; at least, I met him, some time
since, with a basket of apples on his ami, very
comfortably clad and looking taller than of yore.
I gave him an eleemosynary sixpence, as he told
me he was getting on pretty well. Yesterday, his
abominable mother laid siege to my oil ice during
the greater part of the day, pretending to have
business with me. I refused to see her; and she
then told Mr. Wilding that her husband was gone
to Ireland, and that John was staying at Hock
Ferry with Mrs. Woodward, or whatever the
lady s name may be, and that she herself had no
means of support. But I remained as obdurate as
a paving-stone, knowing that, if I yielded this
once, she would expect me to supply her with the
means of keeping drunk as long as I stay in Liver
pool. She hung about the oHice till dusk, but hn-
ally raised the siege.
Julian looks like a real boy now ; for Mrs. Bbd-
gett has his hair cut at intervals of a month or so,
264
and though I thought his aspect very absurd, at
first, yet I have come to approve it rather than
otherwise. The good lady does what she can to
keep his hands clean, and his nails in proper con-
. dition for which he is not as grateful as he
should be. There is to be a ball at his dancing-
school, next week, at which the boys are to wear
jackets and white pantaloons; and I have commis
sioned Miss Maria to get our old gentleman
equipped in a proper manner. It is funny how
he gives his mighty mind to this business of danc
ing, and even dreams, as he assured me, about
quadrilles. His master has praised him a good
deal, "and advanced him to a place among his
elder scholars. When the time comes for .Julian
to study in gcxxl earnest, I perceive that this feel
ing of emulation will raise his steam to a prodig
ious height. In drawing ( having no competitors )
he does not apply himself so earnestly as to the
Terpsichorean science; yet he succeeds so well
that, last night, I mistook a sketch of his for one
of his master s. Mrs. Blodgett and the ladies
think his progress quite wonderful; the master
says, rather coolly, that he has a very tolerable eye
for form.
Una seems to be taking rapid strides towards
womanhood. I shall not see her a child again:
265
that sta^e has passed like a dream a dream merg
ing into another dream. If Providence had not
done it, as thon sayest, I should deeply regret her
having been present at this recent ^rief-time of the
O Sullivans. It did not seein to me that she
needed experiences of that kind; tor lite has never
been li^ht and joyous to her. Her letters make
me smile, and si^h, too; they are such letters as a
prl of fifteen would write, with a vein of senti
ment continually cropping up, as the <j;eolopsts
say, through the surface. Then the religious tone
startles me a little. Would it be well - ( perhaps
it would, I really don t know ) for religion to be
intimately connected, in her mind, with forms and
ceremonials, and sanctified places of- worship 1 ?
Shall the whole sky be the dome of her cathedral V
-or must she compress the Deity into a narrow-
space, for the purpose of getting at him more read
ily? Wouldst thou like to have her follow Aunt
Lou and Miss Rodders into that musty old Church
of England? This looks very probable to me;
but thou wilt know best how it is, and likewise
whether it had better be so, or not. If it is natu
ral for Una to remain within those tenets, she
will be happiest there; but if her moral and intel
lectual development should compel >er hereafter
266
to break from them, it would be with the mem
painful wrench for having once accepted them.
December 1 4th. Friday. O Sulli van desires
me to send American newspapers. I shall send
some with the parcel by the I jverpool steamer of
the 2 1st; and likewise through John Miller, when
ever I have any late ones; but the English Post
OHiee does not recogni/e American newspapers as
being newspapers at all, and will not forward
them except for letter postage. This would be
ruinous, considering that the rate for single letters,
between here and Lisbon, is a shilling and six
pence; and a bundle of newspapers, at a similar
rate, would cost several pounds. I :<;"/; / do it.
Miss Williams -has not yet left her chamber.
Her illness was very serious, and Mrs. Blodgett
was greatly alarmed about her; but I believe she
is now hopefully convalescent.
Julian is outgrowing all the clothes he has, and
is tightening terribly in best sack, and absolutely
bursting through his trousers. No doubt thou
wouldst blaspheme at his appearance ; but all boys
are the awkwardest and unbeautifullest creatures
whom God has made. I don t know that he
looks any worse than the rest. I have given Mrs.
Blodgett the fullest liberty to get him whatever
267
she thinks best. He ou^ht to look like a gentle
man s son, for the ladies ot our family like to have
him with them as their cavalier and protector,
when the) go a-shopping. It amazes me to see the
unabashed front with which he goes into society.
I have tlone my best, in the foregoing scribble,
to }nit thee in possession of the outward circum
stances of our position. It is a very dull life: but
I live it hopefully, because thou (my true life)