Marienberg, Boppart, Sept. 7, '50.
My Dear Sumner:
— Here I am at last where I ought to have been two months ago. This is a most
lovely place, and Julia and I have been enjoying walks upon the banks of the
Rhine, and rambles upon the hillsides, and musings among the ruins, and jaunts
upon the waters as we have enjoyed nothing since we left home. We could well
spend a whole summer between Coblentz and Mayence and not exhaust all the
resources of the country. It is well said that no one sees the Rhine who only
sails up and down the stream in a steam-boat. Yesterday we drove from this to
the St. Goar; explored the vast mines of the Rheinfels; crossed over and
clambered up to the picturesque castle nicknamed the Cat, and wandered about in
ravines and valleys which are now filled with the clustering vines.
Though I have visited the Rhine twice before and explored
some of the ruins, I never had before a sense of the exquisite charm of the
scenery, simply because I was always in a hurry. This is my besetting sin, you
know. Now I have time enough; I take my early bath, and then with Julia wander
off to some picturesque spot and enjoy the changing beauties of the scene to my
heart's content. I return in time for my evening bath, and so the days go by. I
have been here about a week.
As for the Water Cure, I do not think much of it; the water
is not the best; not so good I think as that of Brattleboro, and as for the
physician he is nothing. However, as I am doing pretty well here I shall bide
the arrival of Crawford1 and his party and go on with them to Basle,
perhaps to Geneva. Thence they will go to Lyons, Marseilles and Rome. Julia
will accompany them, and I shall turn my face westward. I hope to sail from
Liverpool on the 5th October at the latest, possibly a week earlier, so as to
be back at my post at the end of my four months' furlough.
We have been long without American news; I am anxiously
expecting our budget. The 30th ult. was a sad day to me. I could not by any
effort keep my thoughts from Boston — the jail — the wretched criminal, and the
dreadful and disgraceful scene there enacting.2 I say disgraceful,
without pretending to decide whether the time has arrived when we may safely do
away with capital punishment — if we cannot it is to our disgrace. You and all
Boston must have suffered dreadfully: whither could you fly to avoid thoughts
of the scene, if one so far away as I was could not keep it out of mind? There
was a terrible fascination about it: I calculated the difference of time, and —
supposing the execution would take place between twelve and one o'clock at
Boston, which would be between five and six here — I hurried up and down the
streets until long past the hour and then went to dinner with what appetite I
could.
I have nothing special to say touching our personnel. Julia
and the children have been in the enjoyment of perfect and uninterrupted
health: mine has been very precarious; sometimes I have been pretty well — then
down at zero again. I trust that my brain at least has got rested, and that
when I return to regular hours, regular habits, pure water and plain roast beef
I shall be able to put on my harness, and at least die with it on my back.
Remember me kindly to all friends; tell Longfellow we think
often of him and speak of him in our walks: when we come to a spot of choice
beauty we say, no doubt Longfellow has often clambered up and rested here.
Would he were with us to point out the beauties which a poet's eye so quickly
sees!
Adieu, dear Sumner. I long much to see you and be with you;
I hope (selfishly) you will not be engaged this coming winter.
Ever thine,
s. G. H.
_______________
1 Thomas Crawford, the American sculptor, who
married Louisa Ward, my mother's sister.
2 The execution of Dr. Webster, a professor in
Harvard, for the murder of Dr. Parkman
SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and
Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 323-5
