Julia Sand – Letter 5

Context

Julia references her brother, Theodore Sand, whose house she lived in at 46 East 74th St near Central Park in New York City.

Letter 5

November 8, 1881

Hon. Chester A. Arthur.

So you came back to New York – & your dwarf carried a long face in consequence. But the campaign was so dull, you cannot easily have hurt yourself on that point. If you have been in any mischief, you will have only your own conscience to trouble you.

I thought, before you were in New York again, I should have left it – but here we are, in the same city – & a hundred miles apart. I wanted to see you. I had an idea, if I could see your face & hear the sound of your voice, I should know whether I were right or wrong in believing what I believe of you – that your nobler nature has risen superior to the other part of you & is going to rule for the rest of your life. For a moment, I even contemplated going to the ball – the first time I ever dreamt of going anywhere to meet a gentleman. But you are public property now, so that makes a difference. I thought I was sure to see you there – perhaps, without effort on either side, to make your acquaintance – I thought of the pleasure of my mother at seeing her little girl in a ball-dress again, of the approbation of my saucy nephews, who frequently say to me, “Aunt Julia, if you only would put on a little more style!” – of my own delight at catching such a concentrated glimpse of the world, after having lived in the moon so long – & I did want to go to that ball with an earnestness unknown to my early days. Then I thought of the trouble it would be to my brother – that is, if he would take it – to find tickets, for the regular sale had closed – of the flurry of procuring a dress – my last ball was at Annapolis, in ‘74, & though a costume from Queen Anne’s time might be fashionable, one of King Grant’s reign would be obsolete – & I thought of five years of unbroken suffering, of the desperate efforts to build up the little health I have, of the absolute necessity of adding to my strength, not wasting it – & then I shut the ball out of my thoughts altogether. And it was well I did. Three accounts of the grand affair make no mention of your having been present. What a disappointed little dwarf it would have been!

And now – we are in the same city still – & will be, how many days? Are we going to say goodbye, without ever having met? If I were well – I must say this honestly, & hope you will not think it rude – I do not think I would go to see you. I never did call on a gentleman, except directly on a matter of business, & even then felt uncomfortable – quite out of my element. But the fact that I am an invalid settles the question. I have not been in society for years, I never pay calls, I rarely go out of the house. For the last ten days, most of the time, I have been on the sofa, with my eyes closed. I would open them, I promise you, if you came. If – but I cannot ask you. You have fifty things more to do, than you have time to do them in – there are five hundred people wanting to see you. Do not think me so unreasonable as to ask you to go anywhere or do anything – I realize fully the value of your every moment. But I say what I have said, so that – in case you take any interest [in] it – you may understand why I act as I do. Also, that you may know, that, if you chanced to be in this part of the city, visiting friends, or any of the public buildings, or driving in the Park – our house is not far from the 72nd St entrance – & happened to have the time & inclination to call, that you would be most welcome. If you do come, ask distinctly for Miss Julia Sand – unless you prefer to see one of my sisters. We live quietly – have few visitors, except in the evening. If you come in the morning, between eleven & twelve, I think you are certain to find me alone – but I do not think you would be liable at any time to meet anyone who had met you before. If it is not suitable for you to go about alone, bring your son, or your private secretary with you. That is, if you come – but do not for a moment imagine that I expect it. I am quite aware that I have not the shadow of a claim upon you. I merely feel, that if you should want to know who it is that has written to you, you have a perfect right to the knowledge. If not, it is of no consequence.

Wishing the best for your administration,

Yours sincerely,

J. I. S.