For Lizzie A. Borden (1860-1927), choosing a greeting card was not simply a random act – she put considerable thought into her selection, ensuring the perfect card for the intended recipient. It appears that she purchased cards throughout the year, oftentimes marking the inside flap of the envelope with the initials of the individual to whom it was to be sent, thus assured the card would eventually be dispatched as she originally intended.
She was very thoughtful that way, always selecting just the right card – unlike me, who admittedly will walk into a store, get overwhelmed by the variety on display, and usually choose one based on what I consider an appropriate illustration – preferably blank inside; I much prefer writing a note.
Throughout the year, Lizzie visited stationers on her numerous out-of-town shopping expeditions, purchasing the greeting cards that she habitually sent to friends; extant examples document her good wishes for a variety of occasions, from Birthday’s to Valentine’s Day, to Easter, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and New Year’s Day.
And of course there was Christmas.
Perhaps she surprised herself, finding it possible to engage in Christmas festivities in the years after the events of August 4th, 1892, that had inexorably garnered her a place in history and perpetually linked her name with the city of her birth; in her not too distant past she once penned a letter from a Taunton, Massachusetts, prison cell revealing her thoughts about an impending holiday.
In 1893 she wrote to her dear friend, Mrs. William Lindsey Jr., née Anne Hawthorne Sheen (1863-1943):
“Do not make any plans for me at Christmas. I do not expect to be free –
and if I am, I could not join in any merry making. I don’t know that I ever could again,
certainly not at present.”
Her life had changed irrevocably, and she knew it.
Thoughts of those days were an ever-present reality to Lizzie and would remain thus for the balance of her life, as much a part of her as if seared into skin by a scorching brand. But time, it is said, heals all wounds – personally, I am not convinced, believing that it simply makes them more bearable – and in Lizzie’s case, it is clear that she would once again celebrate Christmas, presenting gifts and sending cards.
At least some years.
By her own admission 1914 was not a good year for Lizzie, so much so that she did not celebrate the Christmas holiday, writing on December 27th to thank her friend, Mrs. Per Ture Eugen Thelen née Amanda Persson (c.1875-1941) – called by the diminutive, “Manda,” – for a gift of “cases”:
“I did not do anything this year for things have not gone well for me in several ways.”
The nature of her difficulties in 1914 is unknown, and likely will remain such.
But one never knows.
Fortunately, evidence of Lizzie’s holiday gift giving, of gifts she received, and Christmas cards she sent during more tranquil times have survived. She had a penchant, it appears, for saccharine cards and cutesy holiday stickers – Santa, in various forms, was a favorite, affixed to several envelopes.
What if the veil of time was lifted by the Ghost of Christmas Past?
The period: A date in December, sometime between 1906 and 1926, excepting 1914.
The place: Maplecroft, French Street, Fall River, Massachusetts.
The setting: A well-appointed room, finely furnished and immaculately maintained; there are countless books around and about – the lady of the house is a devoted reader; books provide her great comfort and a means of escape.
The scenario: A middle-aged woman of obvious means – impeccably dressed and coiffed – is seated at her “inlaid mahogany desk,” upon which are the neatly arranged trappings of the writing table, an assortment of Christmas cards, a pasteboard box containing holiday stickers, and her book of bank checks.
For good measure, add a pot of steaming tea – a nice blend from S.S. Peirce – a fine china cup, and a few sweet biscuits … just a few: her figure is thickening. It is rather chilly, and despite the hissing radiators, she feels it now more than she used to.
She selects a card, adjusts her gold rimmed spectacles, and reads the initials penciled on the underside of the envelope flap: “Oh, yes.” she reflects, “For Olga.” Returning the card to the polished writing surface she secures a pen and dips nib into ink ….”
Who would have thought?
Few things could be more diametrically opposed to the erroneously perceived character of the Lizzie Borden of legend.
In 2008, a large and extremely important collection of forty-eight pieces of correspondence sent by Lizzie over nearly two decades to Amanda, and that woman’s two daughters, Olga Elinor Thelen (1907-1984), and Anna Victoria Thelen (1910-2006) – they affectionately called her “Auntie Borden” – was donated to the FRHS by their descendants; the collection contains letters, notes, and greeting cards, including several sent to celebrate the Yule.
In the spirit of the season, I will share some – in random fashion – in the days leading up to Christmas:
Undated Dickensian Christmas card with envelope sent to Amanda (Persson) Thelen:
The envelope.
Reverse of envelope.
The card.
The sentiment.
Undated Christmas card with envelope and enclosure card sent to Olga E. Thelen:
The envelope.
The card.
The enclosure card, requesting that Olga “draw” the enclosed check, likely for $20.00, and present $5.00 to each of her family members.
Undated Christmas postcard with envelope sent to Anna V. Thelen:
The envelope. Lizzie habitually enclosed postcards in envelopes before mailing them, a habit assumed after her acquittal to ensure her – and her correspondents – privacy; her unenclosed mail, easily read, was fodder for the scandalmongers.
Reverse of envelope.
Postcard.
Reverse of postcard.
Additional Holiday Greetings from Lizzie Borden will be posted in the next few days.
Stay tuned.
