Millet to Stoddard: November 15, 1875
Letter 13: Letters of Frank Millet to Charles Warren Stoddard: May 10, 1875 - January 3, 1900
East Bridgewater
Hellish weather; snow, sleet and all other infernal combinations to craze a man.
November the 15th
My dear old Chummeke:--
You D.B. [damn bastard? deadbeat?], you haven’t written me for ages you know you haven’t and why? Two weeks in Munich spooning? Spooning! SPOONING! And couldn’t find time to write me. Che diavolo! Ma – parleremo de alter cose [What the hell! But - we will talk of other things]. Neither have the Adamseseseseseseseses written me curses back![1] Charlie I’m not well and you know it. But one weight has been lifted off my back, my visitor [page 2] has at last departed and I am at peace. He has taken three solid weeks out of me now. I have been in agony. That’s why I have not written you before…This is why: four weeks he has been here and never a solitary moment have I had. It was frightful, old boy, and we’ll have to take an extra spoon to make up for all this. I haven’t spooned a bit since I got back, you know I haven’t but you, you [butterfly drawing] You have had one solid spoon with the Adamseseseseses and that’s why I envy you. Now I didn’t want to write you before but feel courage to do it now that there is not [page 3] a shadow of hope in my heart that I shall be able to go to Egypt this year.
[Space added to facilitate reading.]
I must stop in some doggoned city and study like fury this
winter then get far enough along to pass this summer in a decent climate. This, it
gradually dawns upon me is my fate. I can stand it off by going to Spain which I
shall do if I get a commission which I hope for and if I do not I must settle quietly
and study. For, Charlie, money is awfully tight as you yourself know. People
don’t pay much and I get in debt. I have just rec’d $40 from Appletons for a
sketch of San Marino I sent them (good pay, was it not?) am regularly engaged
upon the Advertiser to produce, so much weekly and stuff. Thus I live but don’t
get anything ahead. Meanwhile I am busy with my [page 4]
portraits two of which I depend upon to pay my way to Europe again. And the
others are of the family and subsequently not income producing.
[Space added to facilitate reading.]
Oh my! I wish
we were in Venice. I have written Ben several times to see how much the
proprietor of that little house will sell out for. I’ll borrow enough money to buy it
then settle there, establish a Bohemian refuge and live and die in Venice. As you
may imagine I am looking forward to the day of sailing though it is not appointed
yet. The moment I finish my portraits I am off like a shot. Just at present I am
blue. Tis partly the weather and partly my own cussedness. I wish you were
here, old chummeke [page 5] but what is the use. I shall be in Paris soon and
then we’ll meet and forget this season. I wish I could talk over prospects with
you for an hour. Now that you are uncertain about the Chronicle and are not so
sure of Egypt. I am a sympathizer for I cannot have any hope myself. We will
meet and then we will see. Is it not best to do just what is before me and let the
future troubles come along? So I shall only think now of returning as soon as
possible. Later will come up other questions to be decided.
It’s funny the Adamseseses don’t write. I’ve only had a very small note from Ben.
But they are all butterflies. I don’t understand Donnie’s al- [page 6] -lusion to the
“male nude.” What does she mean?
Now then! You butterfly if you don’t write more I’ll cut your _______ [wings? balls?] off so you won’t
flutter about anymore.[2] If you wrote often I wouldn’t complain or be jealous but
when you don’t write then I begin to clinch my hands.
I’ve had a photograph of the interior of the show taken which I will shortly send to
you.
Write now, do!
It is late and I have worked hard so will stop now. Have not yet seen Fred.
Neither haven't Bailey nor Annie Cheney but hope to see ‘em all.
Yours always with much love
Frank
I have crossed myself and always do.
