I spent the day going through the many letters of Fanny Kemble that the Houghton Library has. I'm a bit cross-eyed from trying to decipher her handwriting. I'm not sure at this point if any of the letters I transcribed will be useful in my chapter on Kemble, but as several discuss her divorce from Pierce Butler in detail, I am hoping I will at least be able to use something from them to contextualize the publication of her 1838 journal.
D and I wandered around Boston a bit this afternoon before having dinner in an Irish pub. I'd forgotten how much I like Boston. I lived an hour and a half from the city while I was working on my MA, over 8 years ago. I spent some time in Boston then, but I haven't been here since I finished my MA. It is much calmer than New York, which is a city I also love. It feels smaller to me somehow, which I know doesn't make sense. But as D pointed out, the buildings are smaller, which makes the city feel more open than New York.
This evening D let me use her computer, which has a camera installed, to chat with C and Wild Man. It was good to see my little boy, but he got a bit upset when he realized he could see me but couldn't touch me. When our connections ended abruptly (the apartment we're staying in has a very slow connection speed), he started crying, which made me want to start crying too. He seems to be doing well, and Yetta and Pita, who, for once, isn't living up to her name, are following most of my instructions. C keeps saying, "No, Wild Man can't eat that." Otherwise, things are fine. Tomorrow I start on Phelps. I'm hoping I can finish up at the Houghton in the morning before heading over to the Schlessinger Library, which is part of Radcliffe. Here's hoping I actually find something useful.
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