[in top margin: P.S. I enclose the Sphynx.] 1
Hartford 8th.
How this precious little wife of mine does tantalize me! Here we have been married ever since the 4th of February, as it were, & she tells me half an incident, & then magnifies her misdemeanor by leaving out the names! Bow your naughty head & receive your scolding, you most lovely & lovable of all creatures that be upon the [earth. Tell ] me who you were irritated with, & what it was about, [Louise?. Every ] single little thing that concerns you has a great, broad, measureless interest to me, & now you have given me only half of your confidence, Livy. I want it, all, dear. Trust me Livy, won’t you?—in little matters [ at as ] well as great ones. Don’t have any reserve—any weighings—any questionings about the propriety [of ] things, Livy. Tell anything & everything, with the absolute knowledge that it will interest me & be honored & respected. You will—won’t you, Livy? Except, of course, it be a matter which I have manifestly no business to know, or a thing which it would be unpleasant to you to tell. In such cases of course I would have you be silent—for it would ill become me to pry into them. But you understand me, my princess.
It was a happy, generous letter, Mrs. Crane’s, & I thank her ever so much for it. She means that she & I shall be friends, & I mean it too.—& what you don’t approve in her note, young woman, is what pleases me most. Do you suppose I could listen with any patience or any friendly feeling to a body who ventured to point out a flaw in my Livy? I wouldn’t speak to my own brother if he did it, until he took it back again. To hear people praise you is music to me, & I could listen to it always—but I can’t allow anybody to disparage you. I couldn’t like Mrs. Crane if she were to do that.2 Bless your good old heart, I love you past all power of language to tell.
Now it’s a darling Livy!3 That is right. When I can know that you are sleeping late at last—the later the better—I shall be as happy as a king. Mr. Langdon will keep his promise, & from the day you begin you will grow stronger, & more happy-spirited & beautiful.—though sooth to say, there isn’t much room for you to grow more beautiful than you are. Commence now, Livy—right away.
You will talk back, will you? , [you obstinate thing? ] SILENCE! He does love you! You had better be careful, now. If you don’t walk pretty straight I will kiss you when I come. You are a good, noble girl, Livy—& if you won’t give up your opinion, why—I’ll give up mine.
I was going to sit for my picture to-day, but hard work to-day & a sleepless night last night had damaged my beauty too much. I hope to do it tomorrow, though, if I can get the fagged look out of my countenance. And then I’ll send it to you right away, & bring the original very shortly afterward. Only nine more days between me & happiness! But how they do drag.
Yes, the re-union will easily keep till I return from Cal. I can’t talk about Cal—I dread the trip so much—not the trip, but the long separation. Unless Charlie telegraphed me every now & then, it would just be insupportable. I mean to arrange that with him.
No, Livy, I yield in the matter of sowing the wild oats. I have thought it over—& I have also talked it over with Twichell the other night, & I fear me I have been in the wrong. Twichell says, “Don’t sow wild oats, but burn them.” I was right, as far as I went.—for I only thought of sowing them being the surest way to fit the make the future man a steady, reliable, wise man, thoroughly fitted for this life, equal to its emergencies, & triple-armed against its wiles & frauds & follies. But there is a deeper question—whether it be advisable or justifiable to trample the laws of God under foot at any time in our lives? I had not considered that. Through your higher wisdom I now & then catch glimpses of my own shallowness, my idol, my darling. God keep you always free from taint of my [misshapen ], narrow, worldly fancies—& keep me always pliant to your sweet influence. You must lead, till the films are cleansed from my eyes & I see the light. Thenceforward we will journey hand-in-hand,. Hand in hand till we emerge from the twilight of Time into the fadeless lustre of Eternity.
Do I dislike to have you write of those past experiences? Why, no Livy. To tell of them draws their sting, reliveves their pain—& who should joy to help you, to suoo bear you up, to soothe your troubled heart to rest & peace, if not I? Who can feel for you as I do? Who has such absolute part & ownership in all that touches you as I have? With whom can you experience such close, in peculiar, interior communion as with me? Whom can you open your secret heart to so unreservedly as to me? No, my Livy, you can have no grief, no burden, but that half of it, by divine right of the hopes, the loves, the lives we have blended together for ever & ever, is mine. Tell me all that grieves you, my other self,—give me all trust & confidence.
I am sorry that this trial came upon you, Livy, but glad that your love for me proved so sound, so strong, so sufficient. I am glad, a thousand times glad—glad, & proud, & grateful. It is a love that cannot perish.
Do you mean your cousin Andrew Atwater? Whoever it is, I wish to hold him in grateful remembrance if he did that which made it possible for you & me to— ‸become all in all to each other.‸ 4 Oh, Livy! The clock has just struck 3! Another night without sleep! I am terrified. With kisses & blessings, good-bye my own darling.
Forever
Sam
March 9—Noon—Have just awakened out of such a delicious dream of you, Livy—thought you slept late, & I marched uninvited into your room & thanked you & kissed you for doing it!—a preposterous thing, which I certainly could have no excuse for doing, except in a dream. It was very delightful, but I thought you did not entirely appreciate being woke up to be felicitated, & ‸you‸ turned over & went immediately to sleep again! But it was plainly & distinctly the dear old face that I so love, & the memory of it is with me yet. I hope you did sleep late.
Read this part of the Miscellany again, Livy, & tell me truly if your ever saw a text so misconstrued, so utterly misinterpreted in all your life before—see if you ever saw a sermon wander so prodigiously wide of its proposition. And then imagine yourself to have been the utterer of the text, & see if you would acknowledge any man’s right to deliberately make you appear to have said what you never had any idea of saying. Mr. Greeley has always argued simply again‸st‸ a poor, unmanly, mean-spirited dependence of a man upon his friends for his bread—& behold how Mr. Beecher has distorted his intent. It is not right. I say nothing against the sermon as a sermon, but I do say that it ought never to have been placed after that text. You can damn any text if you can have the privilege of placing it in an utterly false light. “Thoug shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.”5
Yes indeed, Livy dear, I will furnish articles for you to cut out. You are the very little help-meet I have needed so long in this [regard. Thank ] you.
Now you can turn over & go to sleep again.—but with a kiss first. Good-bye, my darling.
Sam.
[enclosure 1:]
[enclosure 2:]
|
FRIDAY MISCELLANY. BY T. K. B. These homes may be rude and humble; the This sentiment, which we italicise is a To this style of sentiment and exhorta- All grace, mercy and charity are effectu- But we cannot consent that man comes by Every right-spirited man will long to sup- The society of men should not be a great, We cease to be sons of God and brethren We would rather die in the county- |
Miss Olivia L. Langdon | Elmira | New York. [postmarked:] 6 hartford conn. mar 10
[docketed by OLL:] 
52nd
7
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Dear Sue,—I received your letter
yesterday with a great deal of pleasure, but the letter has gone in pursuit of one S. L. Clemens, who has been giving us a
great deal of trouble lately. We cannot have a joy in our family without a feeling, on the part of the little incorrigible
in our family, that this wanderer must share it, so, as soon as read, into her pocket and off upstairs goes your letter, and
in the next two minutes into the mail, so it is impossible for me now to refer to it, or by reading it over gain an
inspiration in writing you. . . . (MTB, 1:379) For Clemens’s synopsis of Crane’s letter, insofar as it concerned him, see 9 and 31 Mar 69 to Crane.
Source text(s):Previous publication:
L3, 151–157; LLMT, 74, 358, brief excerpt and paraphrase.
Provenance:see Samossoud Collection, p. 586.
Emendations and textual notes:
earth. Tell • earth.—|Tell
Louise?. Every • Louise?.— | Every
at as • ats
of • of | | of
you obstinate thing? • [y◇u ◇] b [◇t◇◇◇te] thing? [torn]
misshapen • mis- | shapen
regard. Thank • regard.— | Thank
