Anna Dickinson Family Correspondence [Aug. 5, 1875 - Dec. 8, 1875]Chicago. 8.5.75 Dear little Dick,--here is thy own letter.--I suppose, naturally, however, that thee has already seen it. It is from last Sundays St Louis Republican, & I have heard of it in one of the Chicago papers, but do not know which. Also one paper says thee is better looking than I,--& another says thee is more amiable, & another says--"We take back all we have said about Miss Susie Dickinson,--she writes poetry."-- I cut out the slips for thee, but Bridget hasswept them away with her besom of destruction. Many thanks for the prison things--only I'm sorry thee took all that trouble.--It was the general average I wanted, not the state. It has been so cold here as to need fires & to make every one go round absolutely chattering,--& to-day it is so warm & close one can scarcely breathe.--If I have not said it before I say it now:--I do not know where western people get their energy. Certainly not out of the air,--there is no life in it.--If I have said it before I shall not be surprised for it is a fact I notice & comment on "inwardly" every day. I saw, in the papers here of Mr. Bannon's death, & was sorry to see it.--So the procession marches. I have been looking over the Bronte books,--& Emily's impresses me more than any of Charlotte's except of course Jane Eyre.--But theyall, as always makes me sad. What starved lives, starved hearts, asking, seeking, unanswered, unfinding souls these women had. - I feel as tho I had been looking at a tragedy whenever I think of them. I will send Mrs. Austen your message, she always asks anxiously for you & desires her love sent. - I hope to see her again before I leave here. - Always faithfully thine Anna Dickey. --I hope thee is entirely well again.Chicago. 8.5.75. Dearest little Maumee Dickey tells me thee has been mediating some small excursions in the neighborhood, but is waiting for thy loitering daughter to appear. She would not delay if she could help it, & she hopes to have long booful days with her Maumee before the summer is spent.There is one bright little woman here in the house, who interests me,--a little Dr. who is from Phila.--but migrated thence long since.--Miss May French. I saw her mother, also a Dr. once upon a time, & liked her not, but her daughter is very bright, very witty, original & handsome. Pleasant to eye & ear. But except this one I see nobody who interests me at all.--I must have grown very fastidious in these last years, or people must be deteriorating. Both perhaps.--Certainly the men who lived & flourished through the war times were a species of giants, & they were stretched & expanded to their utmost, & I was perhaps spoiled by them.-- How many, many, many of them are dead.--The war& its needs certainly killed almost as many "in peace" as on the field. I have had a very interesting book given to me, which I must make over to my Ma.--"Old English Worthies"--with illustrations & records that will interest her,--anyhow I hope so. Also I hope she is well & happy & I send her my heart. Anna8.8.75 My dear girl, how would you feel if I should say--I am not interested in what you say or write to me. I hate such subjects. If you really care so much for Temperance meetings & religion let me learn that fact from somebody else. I care for you so much I love you so dearly, I want you to be interested only in the life & the things that seem vital to me, & if you are not I would rather not know the truth, or if I must know it, I want it to be from some othersource than your own mouth or pen--? Listen to me, my dear. I love you. It is nothing to me what you believe, or believe not. My love is a thing aside from your belief, it is you that it holds fast to. I have my own opinions not vagaries, nor ideas, but my own opinions about religion & life very different from yours, but I do not try to make you think as I do--nor feel you hard & cold because you will not show a hearty interest in the things for which I care. If you write to me out of your heart & your soul I am glad. I care for anything you may say to me, & care doubly for what shows me how deep & true is your affection,--but you are not to drive me to argument on the matter. I dont agree with you, & so I come & laugh a little, & stroke your face, & say pooh! pooh! in tender fashion, not at all out of lightness or indifference, but because I care too much for you to wrangle with you,--& if I expressed what I thought, very often it would be in such strong or satirical shape as would go nigh to make your heartArgument never yet convinced any one--& argument with a friend I abbor. I have friends who are church people. & world's people, Catholic & Protestant Union & Secesh. I like to have them say to me just what they think, & I want them to able to hear me say what I think, after my fashion, which is sometimes a light fashion, sometimes an almost silent one, sometimes an emphatic one--but never argumentative. You are to say all you wish to me, but you must let me have the same rights, of response.-- Is that a bargain? (The rest of the document was about other matters)AED Chicago, Ill. 8.10.75 Dear little Dick. - The land is actually sold! - At a sacrifice of course, & what with the mortgage & my debt to be taken out I am not by any means a rich as a Jew, but it will make easy sailing for Maumee & thee, till I make a lot of money again which I shall do, I hope this winter. I have arrangedwith Daly, & I will tell thee all about my plans when I come. It is not worth while to write them now. I have to stay here for a few days yet to settle up matters,--& I must stop in Phila for a little, but I will be at Pittston I hope, by the end of next week--& I trust Sep. will be a pleasanter month, than any of the last three. It has been wet & cold constantly, & I have been fretted & worried almost to death by the delay, but all is ended now. I hope to find Maumee & thee well & happy.--If thee writes, I shall be in Phila I suppose by next Wednesday, & shall leave here, probably Monday. --So thee will know where to catch me.--Dear love. Anna Dickey.8.11.75 Dear little Dick.--I have been writing every day & not getting it done, & now I have time for only a line if I am to catch the mail. I get along--& I hope all goes well with my Maumee & Dickey. I laughed so over this enclosed letteras to make me think Maumee would laugh just as much, & so I send it to her that she may "smile a smole"-- Dear love to her.-- Always thine AnnaChicago 8.11.75 Dear little Dick,--At last I see a chance ahead that I may leave here in a few days. I will telegraph tomorrow or next day whether to write me again here. I must stop by the way, a day or two at Phila,--& at Libs.--I will bring Lib up with me, if I can.--IfI do will there be any place for her to roost in?--She has got me out of here,--if all is right, & has tried harder to serve me than any friend, I have in the world. --More anon.--The papers came all right this morning. I had written down to here before I saw these "figgers" on the other page & now I scratch on regardless of them. I want thee to squint at this little note enclosed. It is part of one written to Frank Willard, who is awfully orthodox & who has fretted me a deal. I wanted to put an end to that, & at the same time not to jab her, & I wrote her this. Does it sound right. Dear love from AnnaAED Chicago. 8.16.75 Dearest little Maumee,-- the summer slips away & yet I see not my Maum. But I hold her in constant love & remembrance & am sure I will see her now soon. I have been reading about divers old English heroes &worthies, & amongst other things, about Sir Walter Raleigh's death.--He asked to see the axe & the sheriff hesitating he said "I prithee let me see it. does thou think that I am afraid of it?" & so passing his finger along the edge returned it with "This is a sharp medicine but it is a cure for all diseases. --& the night before his execution he gave to one of his attendants these lines, that I thought thee would like to read. Even such is time, that takes on trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age & dust; Who in the dark & silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days! But from this earth, this grave, this dust, The Lord shall raise me up, I trust. --And here is something that showswhat Spenser must have suffered in his long waiting on the Queen (Elizabeth) & her promises that her courtiers--or she herself--were so slow to keep, while he was suffering. Full little knowest thou that has not tried What hell it is in suing long to bide; To lose good days that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; to speed today--to be put back tomorrow; To feed on hope--to pine with fear & sorrow; To have thy Prince's grace, yet want her Peer's; To have thy asking, yet wait many years; To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares; To eat thy heart with comfortless despairs; To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, To spend, to give, to want, to be undone. Unhappy wight! born to disastrous end, That doth his life in so long tendance spend. And here is a little story of the wicked persecuting Tunstal Bishop of Durham (InMary's time, thee knows) In spite of his bigotry he was fond of his nephew who was a protestant, & who fled to the continent,--before leaving he resigned his living to a friend, instead of keeping it as some others did theirs in like case (he was, of course a clergyman)--Tunstal thought this a great act of folly & so told him,--& Gilpin answering he could not retain the living & his peace, of conscience too.--"Conscience!" exclaimed the Bishop, "Conscience?--You might have had a dispensation" Did my Maumee get the queer letter a man wrote me?--Here is a queer one a woman has taken the trouble to write.-- There are, certainly, very queer specimens of humanity in the world. --I hope she is well & that all goes well with her in her summer home, & I am always & always her loving daughter Anna Maumee.8.18.75 Dearest little Maum, As I have written to Dickey, I shall get away from here next week, & expect to see my little Maumee by the end of the week, & hope to find her a friskylittle lion.--I want to see her very very much. to day I came across this little poem,--I know not whose it is-- that I do like, & thought my Maum might like too. "If from the cerements of the silent dead, Our long departed friends could rise anew, Why feel a horror, or conceive a dread, To see again those friends whom once we knew? ...... Oh! if the flinty prison of the grave Can loose its doors, & let the spirit free, Why not return the Wise, the Just, the Brave, And set once more the pride of ages free? It is an old thing, & like a good many old things, very beautiful.It is cold, cold cold here, but I hope to find it sunny & warm with Maumee, & I send her my heart Anna MaumeePhila 10 mo 75 Dearest daughter Thy two mementoes duly resieved, and appreciated glad thee had such admiration at Montrose and that thee is so soon to be in here this is likely to reach thee with dear E Chatfield, when I hope thee will find some rest. The weather here is mild and pleasant, but I did not get out any where until third day, when I calld to see S Cooper, who has broken up housekeeping and is atpresent living with her married daughter too poor Sally has been very bad and not mutch prospect at present of being better, Sarah sends her regards to thee, from there I went to cousin W Hawkins, to dine where I met cousin E Clarke looking old and then they all seemd glad to see me, and will be equally so to greet thee, for whom they seem to feel much love and interest and I hope when thee comes here thee will give them a nice little visit, did not see Harry, yesterday was at out M Meeting, it was pleasant to see the faces of my old friends, went to dine and had a read nice little visit to Dr Longshores and no doubt they will be glad to see and welcome thee, poor Julia especially she looks pale and very puny, I tool cold and to to day do not feel so well, but hope to make a call or two tomorrow I am comfortable here and Mary is very kind a call or two tomorrowand attention, tho she is mostly absent at the store, let me know of thy future movemen I want Sue to go either the last of next week or begining the next after to arrrange for our move to N. Y I want to settle down before cold weather and also to be as much as I can with thee. Mutch love to E Chatfield and regards to her husband, I venture to send my love, and father Moore sends his regards to thee lovingly Mother Pittston 10/22/'75 My dear little Sister, There isn't much to say, but I've just been writing to mother and before I lay down my pen I wish to send thee my love, - also through thee to Libbie. The house was like a funeral yesterday, - Mrs. Dave's sorrowed after thee, so - Rich[?] wouldn't come home to dinner because the house was so forlorn without thee, - Mrs. D. moved all the parlor furniture so as not to "see thee" everywhere; - she comes in just now and wishes me to say she "pined & hemlocked after thee." I haven't a word from either mamma or Edwin yet. In ma's case I accept no news as good news. there has left two or three little things behind I think the'll need, & will put them in the package of clean clothes. The dressstarted to Mrs. Austin yesterday. Rich'd remailed this a.m. to thee letters from Osgood & from Libbie. - I forbid Edward from publishing in the Comet a communication Mr. [?] left wth him, - criticising the dancing &c. at the sociable the other ev'g in a way that would have made no friends for him, (since the way he talked to several at its close in a way that [?] have identified him as the author,) not - indirectly- for us. Thee can tell him or not, as thee chooses. I will write further in a day or two - now I must let Robt have this scrawl to mail. All the household send love. With best love always, sister S.AED Elizabeth NJ 10.27.75 My dearest little Maumee, I am glad thee is having a good time skirmishing round, at meeting, & seeing people thee cares for, & that the weather has been so good to thee. It is disagreeable enough to day, but it has been lovely, & must have been very warm in Phila. I came to Washington N.J. last fifth day, found a little place, & a little hall, & a little audience. A hotel that was fair as to its feeding properties, but that had--horror of horrors! only a feather bead on which to put me, so I passed a night of torment between agonizing on the feathers, & scrambling onto the outside of the bed wrapped in my water proof till I near froze--between which pastimes I succeeded in getting no sleep.--And regaled myself by hearing something go splash, splash at intervals, the splashings being the result of a half grown rat in my slop jar, ending in finally drown dead ing himself, to my great content, as I wanted something to be more comfortable than --I made the talk about compulsory education, & the people seemed more than pleased.--One enthusiastic mortal announcing to Bernard that he had waited ten years to hear Miss Dickinson, & "had drove fifteen mile that night, & hid be glad to drive fifteen more mile to hear her right over agen." I had a vile headache, naturally, the next day, but made it somewhat better by driving over to Hackettstown--which is only eleven miles from Washington.--A most beautiful day, a most lovely ride I found there. The scenery is not so bold --if bold it can be called, as the Wyoming Valley, but the hills & uplands are all about, & the coloring on them iseven more resplendent.-- I held forth, for a College Society, & had a fine audience, & a very nasty hall to speak in, & got my money, tho' had to speak in a sort of twilight. The College people make their own gas, & something was amiss with it, so that it alternately flared & sank through the first of the evening & emitted only a faint glimmer for the close of it. Libby I find--"As usual",--but that horrid boy, is even worse & more intolerable than ever. She sends her dear love to thee, & says how much she wants to see thee--if she could make thee comfortable. My love to Mary & all friends.--I send Maumee my heart. Anna Elizabeth NJ 10.27.75 Dear little Dickey- I have been a cub not to have written before. At Washington I fell into disasters manifold. - a vile little hall, a very small audience.- just as I knew it would be, a fairly good hotel as to bathe.- but a feather bed upon which of course I did not sleep a single wink.- Which took all the back bone out of me. & left me with a raging headache.- also a half grownrat that paddled round in my slop jar for a half hour or so & finally drowndead himself--to my great comfort.-- I wanted something to be more miserable than I. The result of it all was that the next day my head nearly fell off of my shoulders,--& I was in a state of horror over the cars. Hackettstown, however, proved to be but about ten or eleven miles from W.--the day was heavenly, & I got a beastie & at seven o'clock that I never would be able to stand up without my stomjack roosting on its head. I went into a scalding bath, & parboiled myself for quarter of an hour,--that straightened my head & my stomme, but I had about as much enthusiasm as a soup dumpling,-- & I had to talk to about two hundred students besides townsfolk, & if there is one audience I utterly abominate more than another it is a seminarydrove Bernard over, taking time to it, so as to be for three hours in the open air. B. went on up the train to New York, & I camped at the big Methodist Seminary --at which I was to speak in the evening. Luckily the "Dean's lady" was not at home when I arrived.--& he had to attend to his school duties, so I was left to burrow into my pillow all the afternoon.--As I found one.--However, I got my money, which in these days is a thing to be thankful for.--I send the draft payable to Richard's order at first hand --only I believe it isn't a draft. I wish he would settle the livery bill, & the livery man at the same time.--The rest, I suppose will be enough to straighten out the time, express &c at Pittston, & take thee to Phila. I have not spoken since H:--I go tomorrow to Plainfield, & friday toTarrytown. Tarrytown being my own venture.-- When does thee go to Danville, & when propose being in Phila? Mother says that "poor Julia is looking pale & puny"--what a scandlous shame it is! And more shame here!--Willie is worse by fifty per ct.--He amuses himself by praying at the top of his lungs,--or rushing wildly up & down stairs, or lying in wait to scare Mary, or lying on his back on the floor in the dining room or laundry, right before here, going through his horrible habit, or rushing about with his night shirt gathered up under his arms saying he "must obey the Lord."-- Of course he behaves himself quietly the most of the time, but he is so restless, & nervous, & queer when he is "quiet" that it is like a nightmare to have him round. --And that stupid oldfather of his alternately yells at & humours him.--half as crazy as he. I don't know how Lib endures it at-all.--She sends her love & hopes thee is having a good time. What is it about Thursday's Graphic, & thy letter? I haven't seen the Graphic since I left Pittston. I haven't seen Bernard.--Nor been over to New York since I came down. --I see from the papers that Ned Booth had a magnificent reception last night. Give my love to Mrs. Davis, --& tell her I have taken one ride, but I didn't have half as good a time as with her, & the nag was not Kate.--He had a sort of compromise gait-- part pace, part trot, part canter, & the result was far from satisfactory in spite of my language to him which was "frequent & painful & free." My best regards to "the boys." I hope thee is flourishing & having a good time in thy solitary estate.--Dear love, AnnaAED New York. 12.9.1875 Dearest Maumee,--I have told Dickey why I have not written, & so there is no need to repeat it. --I have very little news to tell, because I have seen not much.--Laura has been down,--& Gen Pryor --whom I like more than ever,--a real Southern gentleman,--simple, & elegant, & kind & old fashioned, & ugly-handsome, --& Betty has pranced roundwith me within & without --& yesterday while I was out, this card came. --Thee will never make out the first name unaided--Joaquin Miller,--I was very sorry not to see him & discern whether he is as odd & queer looking & acting as he used to be when he delighted Hal & Dick so, & so disgusted Kate Prescott. And speaking of Hal & Dick, I must write to them.--they are so nice, & such good friends it is a shame to leave them so entirely unattended to. I saw Mr. Wilson's funeral go through--up by the 5th Ave Hotel--& it was a solemn & sad sight.--Before it reached that point it was growing dark. The street lights were ablaze, & shone on the long, thick ranks of men, the reversed arms, the shrouded colors, half revealing, leaving them half in shadow,--while the funeral marches sounded double pathetic & solemn heard through the gloom. All the same I think the entire process of a publicfuneral is an abomination. --Poor Henry Wilson!-- I know he wanted to live, had not done the half he had planned to [do]--over worked,--died untimely. Has any one been to see my Maumee.--& does she get on swimmingly in her new quarters,--& is she pretty well?--I hope so, --I love her always & send her my heart Anna