We have a very pleasant little family of our own, & have fine times together. Mr. Hughes says “for one lady it would have been intolerable, for two very unpleasant; but for three quite agreeable.” Henry has been much disappointed not to receive a letter from his father. We are now expecting letters every day from home, & when Wm. Goddard arrives next month we hope to have many —
Please to give my love to Aunt Lucia & say to her I shall write her very soon. Be so kind as to give much love to all the family for me, & accept much love & respect for yourself & Mr Longfellow from
Your ever affectionate
MARY ——
MY DEAREST MOTHER, — As a little blank space is left, I will fill it with a postscript. — We have just returned — that is to say, day before yesterday, — from a visit to the University of Upsala, and the Iron mines of Dannemora; — of which Mary will give you a description all in good time. We already begin to think of leaving Stockholm — and shall probably take the steamboat to Gothenburg in about three weeks. — For my own part, I should like to go sooner if we could. I am disappointed in Sweden. The climate is too cold and unpleasant. I want a little warm sunshine. Something that I can feel, as well as see. From Gothenburg we shall go to Copenhagen, and after passing a month there, take steamboat to Stettin, and so to Berlin. We shall not return to the North again but pass the next summer in Germany and France.
Much love to all. Very affectionately your Son
H. W. LONGFELLOW
MRS. STEPHEN LONGFELLOW, Care of Hon. Stephen Longfellow, Portland, Maine, U. S. of America.
[TO] HON. STEPHEN LONGFELLOW, PORTLAND, MAINE, U. S. OF AMERICA.
COPENHAGEN, September 21, 1835.
MY DEAR SIR, — Henry has consented that I should copy a few pages of his journal for you; but I could not prevail on him to grant this, till I promised again & again for you, that you would not on any condition, allow it to go out of your house. The children can read it there; & I will ask of you the same favor for my father and my sisters, for I know they will take much interest in it.
If it cheers a lonely winter’s evening, or cheats you of a few melancholy hours, I shall feel most amply repaid for the trouble I have taken.
We have regretted much to hear of your feeble health, but hope that your journey has quite renovated you. I [was] delighted to receive a second letter from Mrs. L[ongfellow], in a p[ackage] of letters which reached us a few days since. She is very kind to write me, & I shall not fail to write her, as often as possible, while absent.
With this you will receive a letter for Aunt Lucia. I shall answer Mrs. L’s letter very soon.
Henry has become quite learned in the Swedish, & can already translate Danish. He is studying Icelandic also, as I presume he has told you. He is in fine health & spirits.
With many wishes for your health & my Mother’s, & with much respect & affection for you both — I am as ever
Your affectionate
MARY ——
[On outside of letter.] September 28. I have written by the same ship that brings you this. H. W. L. Also a letter to George.
[Endorsement.] Mary P. Longfellow to S. Longfellow, containing a Copy of Henry’s Journal Sept. 21, 1835.
COPENHAGEN, September 22, 1835.
MY DEAR AUNT LUCIA, — Pray do not be alarmed on receiving this letter for fear that you must answer it. I have not hoped such a favor, but am content, however much I should be delighted to hear from you, to write you occasionally without the hopes of an answer, thinking & knowing you would be as happy to receive a letter from me as any of my dear friends. I received a very entertaining letter from Anne a few days since. Henry says “Anne’s letters have some pith to them.” Pray urge her to write us often, & I shall take just as much interest in hearing about her family affairs as if I was in Brunswick.
And so you have made a visit in Boston, & have been upon railroads, to balloon ascensions, theatres & I know not what. After such a quiet life as you have passed for several years, it must be quite a pleasant little incident, & I know that you must have enjoyed your visit much. But, after all, do you not think that the pleasure of travelling is greatest when it has been all passed, & you are seated once more in your quiet home, — & retrace in imagination your wanderings? It must be so — I think — then you remember only what is agreeable, & the thousand little inconveniences, one must suffer in travelling, are forgotten.
I cannot tell you how delighted we all are that we are out of Sweden. Henry scolds not a little that a summer in Europe should have been passed there.
You have heard before this, by our letters from Gothenburg, that we were detained there a week, much against our will. We passed the time, however, very pleasantly. H[enry] delivered a letter from my Uncle Robert [Storer] to Mr. Wijk of that place, & he was very attentive & kind to us. On Sunday the 6th of September we dined with him, & had the pleasure of being introduced to his celebrated lady. She appears as his daughter, being more than thirty years younger than her husband. We had heard of her great beauty in America. I cannot say that she is beautiful, but she is extremely pretty with very interesting manners. They have travelled much on the continent & in England. The dinner was much more American than any we had seen in Sweden. In the centre of the table was a high glass dish filled with a musk-melon & surrounded with flowers. The remainder of the dessert was not placed upon the table, but came on after meat, &c., as in our country. After soup, fish & meat, we had a nice baked apple pudding; & after this, the cloth was removed from the nicely polished round table, & the dessert of cake, apples, pears, preserves, nuts & raisins was placed upon it. Captain Condry from Newburyport dined there, a very pleasant and gentlemanly man. Mrs. Wijk urged us to remain to tea, but we left them soon after dinner.
Monday. 7. In the aft’ walked around Gothenburg, a pleasant town, & much preferable as an abiding place to Stockholm, in my opinion. On returning home found Mr. and Mrs. Wijk. She looked sweetly & was dressed elegantly. They called to invite us to pass the morrow with them, at their country seat. — Tuesday. 8. At eleven in the morning, took a carriage to Mr. Wijk’s. A long & tedious ride, one & a quarter Swedish mile from town. We arrived there at one, found Mr. W[ijk] & his lady waiting to receive us. We took a walk round the grounds before dinner. The house built in a very pretty style & the grounds something like an English Park. An English gentleman, a brother-in-law of Mr. Wijk’s dined with us. He has a country seat adjoining. After dinner, we walked to this gentleman’s grounds. They are quite delighted with a fine lake near the house. We then visited the factories, which the owner, a man of great mechanical genius, has erected upon his grounds. We saw all the different stages the flax went through before weaving & lastly the weaving itself. We returned home & took tea with Mrs. Wijk & then bade adieu. Found on our return home Mr. Appleton had arrived from Stockholm. He goes to Copenhagen with us.
Wednesday. 9. At two in the aft’ we left Gothenburg, in a little boat for the steamer station, which is three miles from the town. Mr. Wijk accompanied us to the wharf. When we arrived at the steamer pier — found the boat had not arrived from Christiana, & there we waited three hours for it. We left about 6 in the evening. The steamer crowded. We were obliged to sleep in the gentleman’s cabin, & the cabin was entirely filled with hammocks swung one above another. — Thursday. 10. Arrived in Copenhagen at 2 P.M. Found good accommodations at the Hotel Royal. Monday. 14. Mr. Appleton & Mary G —— left us, for London. Tuesday. 15. In the morning went over the new palace, not yet entirely completed. It is a fine building, the rooms very neat, most of them carpeted. The carpet English, & upon the king’s apartments of the most ordinary & coarsest Kidderminster. The Queen’s were Brussels, but nothing extraordinary. In one large room was the king’s throne — A gilded chair covered with crimson velvet, & his initials worked in gold upon it. The platform, & the steps by which you ascend to it, were also covered with crimson velvet. The window-curtains were superb — of crimson velvet & a gold vine wrought upon the edge of them. The Queen
’s apartments were more splendid than the king’s. She had also a room similar to the king’s, with a throne like his & curtains the same. The dancing hall was very fine with seven immense chandeliers in it. — The king and Queen both had their dining halls. There was a most splendid hall for dubbing knights. An immense room, with gallery all around it, supported by pillars which appeared like white marble, but were of some composition. The ceiling was very beautiful, white with raised gilt figures. The chapel was very fine; also the hall of justice, where criminals for high treason, I think, are tried. There is a throne of crimson velvet at one end, & three silver lions, with golden manes, as large as life & in very fierce attitudes are guarding it.
Thursday. 17. In the morning at the museum of “Northern Antiquities.” The collection has been made since 20 years & is the largest in Europe. We were first shown the knives, chisels, arrows, &c., used before any metal was discovered & many — many years before Christianity. They were all of stone. We also saw the first rude urns which were used for the burial of dead bodies. Gold, silver & copper were discovered before iron; when iron was discovered it was for a long time so valuable, that we saw that instruments were made of copper & only pointed with iron. Thus we were shown these instruments from their first rude state till they arrived quite at perfection. We also saw the gold rings & bracelets which the ancients wore, & which they cut off, piece by piece, to give in exchange for clothing or food before the use of money. We saw a beautiful ebony altar piece with gold & silver figures raised upon it. It was intended for a chapel of one of the former kings; but he afterwards altered his plan & erected a large church, — so that it has never been used.
I fear, my dear Aunt, you will find this all very stupid & tedious, & will not thank me much for the copious extracts from my poor little journal. I flatter myself, however, you will take an interest in all that we do & see, so I give you the best descriptions in my power. Copenhagen appears like a different place to us, from what it did when here before. Henry would like to pass the winter here, he is now so charmed with it. We have a much pleasanter situation, than when here before, & coming from Sweden any place would be quite delightful. Indeed it seems now quite like London — the cries remind us of that city & it appears almost as noisy. How different from our first impression of Copenhagen! but then we were direct from London & after that immense and overpowering place everything seems dull and lifeless. We shall probably leave here this week Thursday, & shall take these letters to Hamburg with us, with the hopes of sending them directly to America from there. Henry sends books to the college from here, but it is so uncertain when they go I do not like to leave my letters. How lonely you will be without Sammy this winter; I feel very glad he has entered as Freshman, for we shall have him a year longer with us. Give much love to all from us — Clara is very well and seems very happy. She enjoys travelling very much, & is just as good & excellent a girl as ever — Henry desires very much love to Aunt Lucia — accept much from your ever affectionate
MARY.
To MISS LUCIA WADSWORTH, Portland, Me.
CHAPTER IX. ILLNESS AND DEATH OF MRS. LONGFELLOW
This series of happy travelling narratives was suddenly interrupted by the following letters, now first printed, to the father of the young wife.
ROTTERDAM, Dec. 1, 1835.
MY DEAR SIR, — I trust that my last letter to my father has in some measure prepared your mind for the melancholy intelligence which this will bring to you. Our beloved Mary is no more. She expired on Sunday morning, Nov. 29, without pain or suffering, either of body or mind, and with entire resignation to the will of her heavenly Father. Though her sickness was long, yet I could not bring myself to think it dangerous until near its close. Indeed, I did not abandon all hope of her recovery till within a very few hours of her dissolution, and to me the blow was so sudden, that I have hardly yet recovered energy enough to write you the particulars of this solemn and mournful event. When I think, however, upon the goodness and purity of her life, and the holy and peaceful death she died, I feel great consolation in my bereavement, and can say, “Father, thy will be done.”
Knowing the delicate state of Mary’s health, I came all the way from Stockholm with fear and trembling, and with the exception of one day’s ride from Kiel to Hamburg we came the whole distance by water. Unfortunately our passage from Hamburg to Amsterdam in the Steamboat was rather rough, and Mary was quite unwell. On the night of our arrival the circumstance occurred to which I alluded in my last, [the premature birth of a child] and which has had this fatal termination.... In Amsterdam we remained three weeks; and Mary seemed to be quite restored and was anxious to be gone. To avoid a possibility of fatigue we took three days to come to this place — a distance of only forty miles; and on our arrival here Mary was in excellent spirits and to all appearances very well. But alas! the same night she had a relapse which caused extreme debility, with a low fever, and nervous headache. This was on the 23d October. In a day or two she was better, and on the 27th worse again. After this she seemed to recover slowly, and sat up for the first time on the 11th, though only for a short while. This continued for a day or two longer, till she felt well enough to sit up for nearly an hour. And then she was seized with a violent rheumatism, and again took to her bed from which she never more arose.
During all this she was very patient, and generally cheerful, tho’ at times her courage fainted and she thought that she should not recover, — wishing only that she could see her friends at home once more before she died. At such moments she loved to repeat these lines [by Andrews Norton], which seemed to soothe her feelings: —
“Father! I thank thee! may no thought E’er deem thy chastisements severe. But may this heart, by sorrow taught, Calm each wild wish, each idle fear.”
On Sunday, the 22nd, all her pain had left her, and she said she had not felt so well during her sickness. On this day, too, we received a letter from Margaret, which gave her great pleasure, and renovated her spirits very much. But still from day to day she gained no strength. In this situation she continued during the whole week — perfectly calm, cheerful and without any pain. On Friday another letter came from Margaret, and she listened to it with greatest delight. A few minutes afterwards a letter from you and Eliza was brought in, which I reserved for the next day. When I went to her on Saturday morning I found her countenance much changed, and my heart sank within me. Till this moment I had indulged the most sanguine hopes; — but now my fears overmastered them. She was evidently worse, though she felt as well as usual. The day passed without change; and towards evening, as she seemed a little restless and could not sleep, I sat down by her bedside, and read your letter and Eliza’s to her. O, I shall never forget how her eyes and her whole countenance brightened, and with what a heavenly smile she looked up into my face as I read. My own hopes revived again to see that look; but alas! this was the last gleam of the dying lamp. Towards ten o’clock she felt a slight oppression in the chest, with a difficulty of breathing. I sat down by her side and tried to cheer her; and as her respiration became more difficult, she said to me, “Why should I be troubled; If I die God will take me to himself.” And from this moment she was perfectly calm, excepting for a single instant, when she exclaimed, “O, my dear Father; how he will mourn for me.” A short time afterwards she thanked Clara for her kindness, and clasping her arms affectionately round my neck, kissed me, and said, “Dear Henry, do not forget me!” and after this, “Tell my dear friends at home that I thought of them at the last hour.” I then read to her from the Church Litany the prayers for the sick and dying; and as the nurse spoke of sending for Dr. Bosworth, the Episcopal clergyman, Mary said she should like to see him, and I accordingly sent. He came about one o’clock, but at this time Mary became apparently insensible to what was around her; and at half-past one she ceased to breathe.
Thus all the hopes I had so fondly cherished of returning home with my dear Mary in happiness and renovated health have in the providence of God ended in disappointme
nt and sorrow unspeakable. All that I have left to me in my affliction is the memory of her goodness, her gentleness, her affection for me — unchangeable in life and in death — and the hope of meeting her again hereafter, where there shall be no more sickness, nor sorrow, nor suffering, nor death. I feel, too, that she must be infinitely, oh, infinitely happier now than when with us on earth, and I say to myself, —
“Peace! peace! she is not dead, she does not sleep! She has awakened from the dream of life.”
With my most affectionate remembrance to Eliza and Margaret, and my warmest sympathies with you all, very truly yours,
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
On the 2d of December the young husband left Rotterdam for Heidelberg. There he spent the winter, like Paul Flemming of “Hyperion,” and buried himself in “old dusty books.” He met many men who interested him, Schlosser, Gervinus, and Mittermaier, and also Bryant, the poet, from his own country, whom he saw for the first time. An added sorrow came to him in the death of his brother-in-law and dearest friend, George W. Pierce, “He the young and strong,” as he afterwards wrote in his “Footsteps of Angels;” but in accordance with the advice of his friend Ticknor he absorbed himself in intellectual labor, taking the direction of a careful study of German literature. This he traced from its foundations down to Jean Paul Richter, who was for him, as for many other Americans of the same period, its high-water mark, even to the exclusion of Goethe. It will be remembered that Longfellow’s friend, Professor Felton, translated not long after, and very likely with Longfellow’s aid or counsel, Menzel’s “History of German Literature,” in which Goethe is made quite a secondary figure.
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 210
