File:Frances (Appleton) Longfellow to Thomas Gold Appleton, 17 January 1853 (8867b4ac-3ec0-4139-8c83-b88148d87ea2).jpg

Manuscript letter

Archives Number: 1011/002.001-023#003

Cambridge Jan 17th 1853.
Dearest Tom
I believe we have mentioned, once or twice in our letters, Jewetts severe illness from fever & ague, combined with trouble in his head, but I fear you are hardly prepared (as we certainly were not) to hear that it terminated fatally on Friday last. For two or three weeks appetite & sleep had failed him utterly, & his strength was entirely prostrated, but still his physicians seemed to apprehend no danger & it would be difficult to say that any thing but exhaustion caused his death. He had a very capable physician in Keene but desiring one from town that understood especially fever & ague Dr Ware was sent up, who found that was not the main difficulty but the affection in his head which a violent cold [p. 2] had made painful for the first week. He found that for 20 years Jewett had suffered from running at the ear. That some force in the head had so discharged itself & saved him from affection of the brain, but he gave his opinion on his return (still thinking of no immediate danger) that this might finally cause insanity, so that we feel comforted to know he has escaped that horror & died in perfect tranquility & with the clearest possession of his intellect. he had been boarding in most comfortable apartments in Keene & had the devoted attendance of Aunt Sam & her nephew young Elliott, with an excellent nurse, but the week before his death he was moved to her house & said “if I am to die now, I shall die in peace”. I will give you young Elliotts account of his last moments “In the afternoon of [crossed out: Friday] Thursday (the 13 Jan) he appeared strangely revived & insisted upon the attendance of the household to eat of his “fruit-feast” (some fruit Uncle Sam had sent him) as he called it. He then enquired of the writer if he had paid all his bills – [p. 3] said he should want no more fruit – wished him to see that his landlady (where he had roomed) had a proper gratuity &c till we forbid his talking any more. He then from time to time took wine whey, made of the wine just sent by you, & seemed about as usual till sundown. He then began to perspire profusely which alarmed us, but it abated soon. About midnight a cold sweat came upon him & his pulse became almost imperceptible & Mrs A. told him “his end was at hand”. He called for the Doctor & the writer & enquired if we thought him dying. He then told the undersigned that he wished his property to go to his half-sister in Ohio – his french letters to Mrs Bint & Mrs Spaulding &c &c He then wished to be moved to the sofa but the Dr said he could not bear it. We continued all the while stimulating him as much as possible but all in vain. He said he felt himself failing. “Thanks millions of thanks to Uncle Sam he has always stood by me – thanks” He then vomited slightly – but said he rested well again. Mrs A gave him a little wine saying twas some of Uncle Sam’s - he smiled & said “thanks again thanks to him” & very soon fell asleep in death without struggles or groans & almost without a sigh. A few moments be [p. 4] fore his death, he said to the writer in French & with a last look “C’est la paix.” And with resignation he rested quiet – awaiting that summons that to us all “one day will come any day may bring and which every day bringeth nearer.” – This has been a dreadful shock to us, dear Tom, as it will be to you. Jewett has seemed so much nearer us than any of our cousins & it is very hard to believe his exuberant life & active thought & warm heart are no longer to act upon our existence here. Poor Uncle Sam bears it patiently, but can hardly, as yet, believe it – he says “Maria can it be that Jewett is dead.” He has been so long accustomed to rely upon him, & left so much for him to do after his own death. And Father too feels it very sadly & regrets much he could not have seen him again (as Jewett during his jubilst state wished) but, not dreaming of the end, we did not wish him to expose himself thro cold, stormy weather, for winter has at last come with all its snows. We shall ever mourn for him with heart-felt sorrow & feel that we have lost a great portion of the past, but as he had little very cheering to look forward to in life & died, not in some forlorn room (as he might) but in the arms of a kind family we [p. 5] ought not to repine too bitterly. I wish I could believe he had some Christian hope of a better life in his last moments four he usually wrote rather skeptically of these things but I trust he had & is now slaking his thirst for knowledge & love at the eternal founts fast by the throne of the Father. I fear you will think, dear Tom, we have nothing but sad news to tell you (so many deaths have lately occurred in the family & among friends) & I wish we could be near you to soften this new shock. Your last touching letter to Father made me fear you were not as well as you had been, & still felt your life to be a maimed one – which I trust you will not always – when you see how every one has some secret troubles & perfect health is an almost unheard of boon. You have borne manfully your cross, & I trust it will grow lighter & lighter until it seems only a staff to help you up the higher paths to the Delectable Mountains. Life is full of secret pit-falls, & some such staff seems essential to our safe going. The bitter strength of the fennel is, as you say, perhaps better than so called hap [p. 6] piness, at least until we can live where nectar will not enervate & dull us. I feel all the time with trembling what a dangerous thing happiness is – we no sooner enjoy it than we are haunted with fears of losing it, a nameless terror which blackens the noon-day sun, because it is so bright. We have had a sad death in Cambridge – that of Mrs Eustis the wife of a professor, just beginning life as it were, & leaving four mere babies behind her.
Jewett wished to be buried with his mother at Burlington, & his request will be obeyed either now or in the Spring. We have much reason to be grateful for the devotion of our Keene friends but still I wish some of us could have been there. Elliott wrote bulletins from day to day, but the end was veiled from our sight. Mary feels very much overcome by it having been corresponding with Jewett much lately. His thoughts were full of the next world, & he seemed disappointed such an intellect as Mr Wattons did not furnish some thing dearer as the gates opened to him. But [p. 7] “les grandes pensées vienennent du Coeur” says some one & many a lowly spirit can see farther with the spiritual world than the keenest worldly-wise brain.
Dear Tommo – we are very glad you are comfortable in Paris & are amused & soothed by the strange melodrama there, where after Harlequin comes an eruption of Vesuvius & vice versa, & it is almost pleasanter to think of you there cheerful & at ease than cooped up in the dismal Tremont or buffeting these icy blasts now upon us. Emmeline drives about in her carriage with her little boys, but looks sad & care-worn. Sam has bought Mr Otis’ house & I hope they will all occupy it unchanged, but they talk somewhat of building there two wooden houses instead, one of which will cost him as much as they paid for house & land – 60.000 dollars – She thinks it too much associated with one family, which is true, but it is such a grand old house it seems a pity not to keep it. Henry is sorry he did not send you sooner an order for some wine but if you still can send he would like a few dozen of Chablis [p. 8] and a few dozen of Bauve – say 3 dozen of each. He is enjoying vacation.
Papa is pretty well but still has some cough. Our household has been perfectly well thus far. Mary was rather anxious about Robert, knowing so much yellow fever to be at the Thames & not hearing for two steamers, but she has good news of Antigua from young Eldridge. The dreadful accident which killed the President-elect’s [pencil, other hand: Pierce] beautiful boy before his & his wife’s eyes, by the upsetting of the rail-car down a bank, has caused great horror & sympathy here & has made her think of poor Ronny exposed to railways going to his holiday visits – but she is far better than in the autumn, & sends much love as does Henry & your
ever loving & sympathizing
Fanny E. L.
Healey has made a fine portrait of Hawthorne I hear & of Miss Hodgkinson in her riding-habit for Aunt Sam. The Assemblies go on at Papantis.

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