Next to Emily Dickinson’s house is the Evergreen House. Belonging to Emily Dickinson’s brother, Austin, the house remained lived in until a very recent 1988. The last private owners did little to alter the house, including preserving the room of the deceased little boy whose clothing is still laid out on his bed. In addition to maintaining the houses original wallpaper and much of the furniture, the owners did not throw much away. Among the items saved were magazine subscriptions, old letters, and an old wood-burning stove. Derek, our fearless graduate assistant, promised us a “haunting” experience in the house. Before we embarked on this trip, he informed us that on his last excursion to the northeast, the Evergreen House was amongst his favorite places. We couldn’t wait.

After touring the Dickinson house, we walked next door, anticipating a house, virtually unaltered by time. When we entered, however, we quickly found out our expectations and anticipations were aimed too high. The old wallpaper drooped from the walls like flowers in the late summer. The ceiling was an old man’s face: deeply creviced and cracked, slightly sagging. The musty furniture and damaged floorboards gave the house the opposite effect of hauntingly old; it was just old. The kitchen had been preserved in its original state (with the addition of a gas stove next to the wood-burning one); however, it looked as if no restoration efforts were being made.

We climbed upstairs, clinging to the hopes of seeing the child’s room. In the narrow hallway we were able to peek through to see the clothing neatly pressed and laid out on the white damask bedspread, but the other rooms were in bad need of restoration. We ended our tour in the parlor, listening to an old radio program that broadcasted from the very room we were sitting in. When the tape stopped, our guide asked us if we had any questions. Derek, ever the brave soul, told about his visit six years ago and innocently asked what had happened in the short time to the beautiful landmark. Our guide, a former history professor at Yale, sighed and all at once looked sorrowful and tired. She explained that certain restorations would require the removal of the original wallpaper, the reupholstering of certain furniture pieces, and the re-vamping of the structure of the house. She explained the dilemma. Leave the house and it is destroyed; restore the house and it is not the same.

While I could never make the decision for the society in charge of the preservation, I can say if the house were to be left in the condition it is in right now and remained untouched, it would certainly crumble around the feet of its admirers. The other houses we have visited featured, many times, re-created wallpaper, rugs, and even artwork. The neither the integrity of the houses or the effect the literary homes had on our group (and I’m sure others) was altered because of the changes. My vote: Save the Evergreen!