_Liverpool_, Novr. 3d, 1855
_Dearest wife_,
I received your letter a week ago, telling me of your woeful passage
and safe arrival. If I had thought how much you were to suffer on the
voyage, I never could have consented to thy departure; but I hope thou
art now flourishing in the southern sunshine, and I am sure it would
have been a dreadful matter for thee to remain in such weather as we
have lately had. But I do so long to see thee! If it were not for
Julian, I do not think I could bear it at all. He is really a great
comfort and joy to me, and rather unexpectedly so; for I must confess
I wished to keep him here on his own account and thine, much more than
on my own. We live together in great love and harmony, the best
friends in the world. He has begun to go to dancing-school; and I have
heard of a drawing-master for him, but do not yet let him take
lessons, because they might interfere with his day-school, should we
conclude to send him thither. His health and spirits seem now to be
perfectly good; and I think he is benefitted by a greater regularity
of eating than when at home. He never has anything between meals, and
seems not to want anything. Mrs. Blodgett, Miss Williams, and their
niece, all take motherly care of him, combing his wool, and seeing
that he looks clean and gentlemanly as a Consul's son ought to do.
Since the war-cloud has begun to darken over us, he insists on
buckling on his sword the moment he is dressed, and never lays it
aside till he is ready to go to bed--after drawing it, and making
blows and thrusts at Miss Williams's tom-cat, for lack of a better
antagonist. I trust England and America will have fought out their
warfare before his worship's beard begins to sprout; else he will
pester us by going forth to battle.
I crossed over to Rock Ferry, a few days ago; and thou canst not
imagine the disgust and horror with which I greeted that abominable
old pier. The atmosphere of the river absolutely sawed me asunder. If
we had been wise enough to avoid the river, I believe thou wouldst
have found the climate of England quite another thing; for though we
have had very bad weather for weeks past, the air of the town has
nothing like the malevolence of that of the river. Mrs. Hantress is
quite well, and inquires very affectionately about thee, and the
children, and Fanny. Mrs. Watson crossed in the same boat with me. She
has taken a house at Cloughton, and was now going over to deliver up
the keys of the Rock Ferry house. I forgot to inquire about Miss
Sheppard, and do not know whether she has succeeded in letting our
house.
I dined at Mr. Bright's on Thursday evening. Of course, there were the
usual expressions of interest in thy welfare; and Annie desired to be
remembered to Una. Mr. Channing called on me, a few days since. He has
just brought his family from Southport, where they have been spending
several weeks. Our conversation was chiefly on the subject of the
approaching war; for there has suddenly come up a mysterious rumor and
ominous disturbance of all men's spirits, as black and awful as a
thunder-gust. So far as I can ascertain, Mr. Buchanan considers the
aspect of affairs very serious indeed; and a letter, said to be
written with his privity, was communicated to the Americans here,
telling of the breach of treaties, and a determination on the part of
the British Government to force us into war. It will need no great
force, however, if the Yankees are half so patriotic at home, as we on
this side of the water. We hold the fate of England in our hands, and
it is time we crushed her--blind, ridiculous, old lump of beef, sodden
in strong beer, that she is; not but what she has still vitality
enough to do us a good deal of mischief, before we quite annihilate
her.
At Mr. Bright's table, for the first time, I heard the expression of a
fear that the French alliance was going to be ruinous to England, and
that Louis Napoleon was getting his arm too closely about the neck of
Britannia, insomuch that the old lady will soon find herself short of
breath. I think so indeed! He is at the bottom of these present
commotions.
One good effect of a war would be, that I should speedily be warned
out of England, and should betake myself to Lisbon. But how are we to
get home? Luckily, I don't care much about getting home at all; and we
will be cosmopolites, and pitch our tent in any peaceable and pleasant
spot we can find, and perhaps get back to Concord by the time our
larch-trees have ten years' growth. Dost thou like this prospect?
What a beautiful letter was thine! I do think nobody else ever wrote
such letters, so magically descriptive and narrative. I have read it
over and over and over to myself, and aloud to Julian, whose face
shone as he listened. By-the-by, I meant that he should have written a
letter to accompany this; but this is his dancing-school day, and I
did not bring him to the Consulate. One packet of letters, intended
for Lisbon, has mysteriously vanished; and I cannot imagine what has
become of it, unless it were slipt by mistake into Ticknor's
letter-bag, and so went to America by the last steamer. It contained a
letter from thy sister Elizabeth, one from Julian, and myself, and, I
believe, one from Mr. Dixon.
Did you pay a bill (of between one or two pounds) of Frisbie, Dyke &
Co.? I inquired in my last about Mr. Weston's bill for coals.
Do not stint thyself on the score of expenses, but live and dress and
spend like a lady of station. It is entirely reasonable and necessary
that thou shouldst. Send Una to whatever schools, and let her take
whatever lessons, thou deemest good.
Kiss Una; kiss naughty little Rosebud. Give my individual love to
everybody.