Manuscript letter Archives Number: 1011/002.001-006#003 Rome. March 22d 1836. – Sweetest Emmelina, I have not forgotten my promise to send thee a line from the Eternal City & to think that 3 weeks have been bounded along & I have found no chance I might by some wondrous luck. I am solus, tho’ just now threatened with a stupid invitation from 2 American youths who bolted into our apartment, sans announcement, to be introduced without our consent being demanded by one of our fellow-passengers another gauche Yankee, all the polish he ought to have gained on his travels having concentrated into the growing of a terrific pair of moustaches – until we last saw him! Mary has gone with Miss Emily Harrer & a Miss Hare to a soirée at Princess Musignenas to whom Mrs Ch Lyman gave us a letter – I had no desire to go, to display the limit of my talkyns accomplishments & shall delight, sweet beausmy, much more by having a little chat with the in sober English. What do you think, little thing, I have done today. Why no less a feat than to mount to the hall of St Peter’s. Heartily glad am I it is over – it is no slight relief to have all that dome off ones conscience. The view was most new extraordinary from without but to gaze from the gallery ½ way up the dome down onto the church was awfully dizzying & overwhelming – such mere ants were the men walking round on that huge pavement. There seemed to be an atmosphere below us – the misty rays darting athwart each other [??] the manikins dogs-glorious was the effect of the chaunting in some distant chapel the rich music rolled up to us – so mysterious! And we were up high as the seventh heaven, supported only by a balustrade from that immense abyss - & surrounded with the giant figures of all the saints hardly seen from below but every bit of mosaic islands as that ☐! The greatest curiosity of the ascension is to see what a world is the roof – domes - & houses - & cupolas – where workmen ac [p. 2] tually live. It is impossible to comprehend the immensity of the church while in it – but now I feel as if I had conquered St Peters’. But you doubtless want to know what we have thought of Rome. These few weeks have been one whirl of a delight. I can see nothing behind me but a chaos where churches, palaces, ruins, statues, pictures, obelisks & fountains are crowding upon each other in mad confusion. Is it not enough to craze mortal brains? In fact mine are perfectly exhausted, crushed, stupefied & were it not for an occasional refreshment in the way of a drive in the country as we did today thro’ hedges all [???]y with [???]times in an air as balmy as [??] or a soothing promenade in the shady groves of the lovely Villa Borghese, or a turn on the Pincian, or a reverie in the Palace of the Caesars. I should be fairly “done up” – with the rush of new ideas. Yet it is a glorious thing to have such a world in your control –to say today we will stroll in the Forum or the Vatican or St Peters; to have a dozen galleries enticing you with Raphaels, Titians, & Guereins & study innumerable while I want to buy everything. Then for the last week we have had such weather! warm, almost cloudless: we have at last arrived at the acme of Harriet Sears’ envy’ to wear capes. Is the poor girl I wonder making sail round Park St corner just now with an east wind tearing her like a saw. Ugh! Such a mallstrom [sic] of Americans have we fallen in with: as to any other society abroad it seems quite hopeless. There are about a dozen youths fresh from counting-houses & Yankee notions prowling about who claim the priveleges [sic] of pouring in on us all times of day & Miss Harbrie undertakes to fraternize the whole cortege & has them hailing after her forever. We have got much acquainted with Mrs Sidney Brooks who is looking very prettily & saltily social & agreeable: we have many nice parties together: we went one night to see the Vatican by Torchlight & an Italian acquaintance a Mr Visconti a famous antiquarian spouted forth before every statue thereby enlight [torn] vastly – nothing could be more glorious than the effect of this [p. 3] strong light & shade: if I could but enfold to you one look of the Apollo! but what is that you will say when I have the concentration of all the Adonises that ever lived or ought to have lived in the sublime May! I would not undertake to uval him this side the water except with those of stone. I have as yet not seen even a Lord Nelirl – all the Englishmen here seem to be of the dibrons cockney cast, riding horseback for occupation flirting eye-glasses, near-sighted or not & talking in the drawling tone of the hopeful tallest & eldest Mrs Inglis? Any souvenezvors? This Mr Visconti is quite a nice person – converses in French; most fluently, sometimes poetically & often unintelligibly thereby reminding me at times of Thomas the Sage? We got up 2 excursions with Mrs Brooks & suite, consisting of her husband who is the drollest mortal, always making fun of our sentiment & even hunting. Wm Payne equally amusing & a Mr Jones a genteelish well-looking youth of N. York with whom I sometimes flirt when I have nothing else to do - & made the tour of the Appian way with Mr Visconti as walking dictionary. It was delightful & I enjoyed it much. Nothing has disappointed me more here than the [??]tt of Egeria – Did you not fancy it was some chasming retired spot with trees waging round – a dark, coal grotto of a rock with a bubbling sill &c? whereas it is 3 brick walls with a few boughs hanging over the top a black shapeless statue at one end & a little dribbling stream telling there from (how Egeria’s sandals resisted the mud I dont [sic] know!) but it is all open to glaring day & an ugly common-place mineno. What business had Basson to write such a description? Now the Palace of the Caesars enchanted me – it is nothing but a mean, brick mass of [???] too. but so gracefully wave the green leaves over every huge wall, so luxuriantly grow the flowers & such a splendid view is there from the top of what was the banquetting [sic] hall of Rome & the Compagna, divers tomes, obelisks, & temples, the Colosseum & the green heavy plain with those exquisite purple Athenian hills making such a Claude-like distance. I assure you the very atmosphere of Rome [??] melancholy for the first week & what is sadder than stumbling day [???] day amongst ruins – but the mind has to live so fast & imbibe such [p. 4] a world of reminiscence & reality that it grows with what it feeds on & the exhilaration overcomes the – sentimentality perhaps – at any rate I find I look daily with much less awe on the broken columns & brick vaults & can now [???] feel little but the picturesqueness of the ruins. We have now nearly “used up” Rome – but it makes me crazy to think of leaving it – the feeling that I may never see it again, attaches me so strongly – terrible to think that this grand hage of one’s existence (worthy to swallow up ½ the rest) is to be sealed so quickly. How much I love its ruins, its temples, its villas, its statues, its fountains; its beggars I can now endure as picturesque, its dirt as national & its wretched ceremonies as poetical associations! The other day, by the way, I saw a very pretty show at one of the churches where the Pope came borne in his chair of state, & looking as helplessly idiotic as any superannuated old woman – followed by the train of Cardinals, fine old men – with their scarlet robes twisted up behind exactly as if they were being wrung – martial music & chanting – Swiss guards in their harlequin costume, muffs & halberts, smoking of the poor Pope with incense, tucking & untucking, & finally a procession of 12 damsels clothed in white even to their mouths like Turkish, crowns on their heads & tapes in their hands, they kiss the Pope’s toe & he presents each her marriage dower. These are chosen each year. They were quite pretty & the picturesque groups, - peasants, priests, nuns, & soldiers made a fine effect. Nothing I have enjoyed more than an excursion we had a few days ago to [crossed out: Tivoli] Frascati. All the Americans, except Mrs Mrs Fay, the Parkman’s & unknown others, composed the party, amounting in all to 25! I forgot a Salish Count, a Scotchman & an Englishman. We mounted to the top of a high hill thro’ a very romantic path covered with flowers & constantly such lovely views of the Campagna on donkeys: & such fun as we had with the stupidity of the little hideous beasts & the urging groans of the dradas & the entanglements in the bushes & all the contretems of such an expedition! The day was delicious & our spirits were up to the pleasa[nt] party maik. It reminded me so much too of Red Mountain! [p. 1 cross] A droll association between Rome & Vermont! After admiring the view from the top rather more satisfactory than that one we scrambled down again in a blazing sun & devoured a fine collation at the inn of the village with about as good appetites as our quaint feast at that quainter old womans – who seemed to have Hov lunatic purse in the way of pies! We are going to Tivoli in a day or two. Sunday. My letter is of an unconscionable length dearest Emmeline but it is so difficult to find a moment here I make full use of my time; there is no knowing when you will hear from us again. Today was the commencement of Holy Week & we went to the Sistine Chapel to see the blessing of the Palms. It was a fine show & that is all: such baby-play as are all these ceremonies. They had not real Palms either – nothing but straw sticks & olive leaves. The ladies are all stuck behind a grating so seeing little, it was rather tedious, but we had a fine view of Don Miguel who was kneeling devoutly as the Pope passed trying to find the chant in his prayer-book which looked as if seldom disturbed. He has a long, peaked, wicked looking face but not plain. The ladies wear black during this week & some of our friends have been obliged to have a dress made for the occasion. Miss Gibbs was indignant at the idea, said she hate black but at last resigned herself to appear tolerably smart in a satin! The Italians have veils, instead of bonnetts [sic]. We went last night to hear quite a famous Improvisatrice – Rosa Taddei – [p. 2 cross] It is almost painfully exciting at first. Subjects are given her by anyone there we several very good. She thinks about 10 minutes, looks up from the paper with a most wild searching quite inspired expression &, bustles forth with thundering intonation violent gestures & often a rush of beautiful ideas – accompanied by a man or the harp. At times she seems almost demoniacal & lashes herself into a rabbia which is imparted to the audience & a happy expressive brings down a thunder of applause or a sympathetic groan of ecstasy. If the idea is lost or is slow in striking her mind she stamps her foot bites almost her hand & seems nearly convulsed with the distress – catches it in a moment or sinks at once from all this terrific animation into perfect repose like a musical box in the midst of a tune. I can easily imagine one to go crazy at such a moment! I could understand little but Mary said there were some truly poetical points full of genius. She is not handsome but has a most intellectual Sybelline expression which is worth more for such a trade. She ranks very high here. It makes me weary to think how terribly quick her mind must act at the inspired moment & what a world of general knowledge she must have to strike out so many original & fine ideas from any subject given her. Amongst the interesting Americans here is Mrs Bethune It is perfectly ludicrous to see what a “gathering” Rome can show. Some we shall meet against Naples & others thank our stars are going North after this week. Today the first rainy one for nearly a month carried us home so forcibly – It was [p. 3 cross] like some of our quiet, dark, rainy, Sunday afternoons & Tom said we could almost see the gutter pouring from Mr Winthrop’s corner & Frank Gray going by! What a shame we shant be here next winter with the Ticknors! I wonder if the sweet bear isn’t this moment talking wisdom with the bright haired Tom or consolatory sentiment with Signor Stivoli – or – more personal sentiment with --------- Max!! Or yawning at the window over the wooden perambulations of the Gary – or – thinking if she shall run over to talk about the wanderers with Mrs Dutton - If you are going please give her my very best love & tell Mr. D. I would send him a rose from the thousand on every bush if there was but a railroad across the Atlantic. I cant [sic] bear to say good bye but it is ever so late & tomorrow I have got to see tip so many palaces - & churches - &c. What a sad praise on all your bridal festivities must have made the death Mrs Mason! The Sears’ attempts at enlivening a Boston winter are nipped in the bud. Perhaps Harriet envies us more than ever but for her consolation there is little gaiety enough here except for two hours once a week when the Borghese grounds are crowded with a [??] of gay equipages. Good night. Do write a sketch to me of the panorama of Beacon St promenades “lovers & countrymen.” Yrs with a kiss Fanny What a letter! it is as long as Mr Gannetts sermons or modern dresses. Keywords: correspondence; frances elizabeth (appleton) longfellow; emmeline (austin) wadsworth; travel; italy; rome; Correspondence (1011/002); (LONG-SeriesName); Letters from Frances Longfellow (1011/002.001); (LONG-SubseriesName); 1836 (1011/002.001-006); (LONG-FileUnitName)