For a year I have held the pen only to write an occasional business letter such as could not be neglected. This was primarily owing to a severe neuralgic complaint that settled in my eyes, and for two months not only made it impossible for me to use them in writing, but to fix them with attention on anything. I could not even bear the least light of day in my room. Then my dear little Frederick was born, and for two months more I was confined to my bed. Besides all this, we have had an unusual amount of sickness in our family. . . .
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and children during the following summer, and before her return made a trip through the White Mountains.
In May, 1840, her second son was born and named Frederick William, after the sturdy Prussian king, for whom her husband cherished an unbounded admiration.
Mrs. Stowe has said somewhere: “So we go, dear reader, so long as we have a body and a soul.
For worlds must mingle,--the great and the little, the solemn and the trivial, wreathing in and out like the grotesque carvings on a gothic shrine; only did we know it rightly, nothing is trivial, since the human soul, with its awful shadow, makes all things sacred.”
So in writing a biography it is impossible for us to tell what did and what did not powerfully influence the character.
It is safer simply to tell the unvarnished truth.
The lily builds up its texture of delicate beauty from mould and decay.
So how do we know from what humble material a soul grows in strength and beauty!
In December, 1840, writing to Miss May, Mrs. Stowe says:--
Houghton, Mifflin and Company, The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 1889.
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